Last Will and Testament
by Drumboy100
Summary: Nancy and Frank have signed up for a weekend murder mystery role-playing game on a small island in a Louisiana bayou. However, they soon begin discovering things that they're not sure are part of the game...Complete.
1. Chapter 1

This story is heavily based on the most awesome old-school PC game "The Colonel's Bequest" by Sierra.

Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys, and I am writing for free and for fun.

Warnings: Some risqué scenes, light language, and, sorry, no Joe!

Nancy attempted to suavely flip her hot pink feather boa over her left shoulder, and only succeeded in dipping the end of it into her English Gray tea. Quickly removing it, she stifled her laughter by cramming another blueberry scone into her mouth, leaning over her plate to manage the crumbs, which caused another couple of feathers to fall into her tea.

She refused to look up, knowing that Frank Hardy's steely gaze would be penetrating her like X-Ray vision. _Settle down, Frank, I'll behave and follow through,_ she thought. This had been a very thoughtful gesture that she would appreciate once she knew what to expect.

The polite laughter and strained conversation around the long afternoon tea table died down suddenly as the grandfather clock loudly struck 3:00. Each of the nine people gathered, most unknown to each other, looked expectantly at one another. The introduction to the evening's events was scheduled to begin at 3:00.

Nancy saw movement to her left, and turned to see the door to the dining room open. A solemn man in his mid-forties, wearing a very old-fashioned butler suit, pushed a man in a wheelchair to the head of the table. Then he removed himself to the back corner of the room, holding his hands in front of him. The man in the wheelchair appeared gruff but not unkind, perhaps in his early seventies, exuding intelligence and assertiveness.

"Welcome," he said solemnly, adjusting the breaks on his wheelchair. "I'm glad to see you've all arrived safely to Misty Acres Plantation, here on this island in the bayous of Louisiana. Some of you have traveled very far to answer my letter, and for that I am grateful.

"I'll come to the point. I'm sure you're wondering why I sent for you. As you know, I'm a very wealthy man. I have invested my money wisely and have put away almost every dime. My end is near and I have decided to bequeath my millions to the people I value most in the world, all of whom are in this room right now.

"You each will inherit equally when I die, my three servants equally as well. If any of you should die before I go, then your share would be divided equally among the remaining parties. Oh—" Suddenly the man groaned, clutching his head.

A woman in a French maid uniform immediately came forward, laying a comforting hand on the man's arm. "Oh Henri, you are unwell? I shall take you back to your rooms?" she said in an exaggerated French accent.

"Yes, thank you, my dear. What would I do without you?" Henri smiled up at his maid, suddenly appearing to be a much younger man, a youthful exuberance despite his claim that he was tired. "I'll be in my rooms if anyone would like to speak with me. I'm sure you all want to catch up among yourselves now."

This statement appeared to trigger discussion among the group, and as soon as Fifi had wheeled Henri Dijon out of the room they all began speaking on top of one another.

"Can you believe it?" a thin man said excitedly, rubbing his hands together.

"The old skinflint, I'm surprised he didn't try to take it with him! My lucky day!" an older man said excitedly. He was obviously a doctor, as he had a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

"How much do you think he's got?" Frank Hardy suddenly asked eagerly. Nancy looked at him in surprise. "You're his lawyer, Clarence, how about giving us an estimate?"

"Why's it so important to you?" the thin man asked wryly.

Frank looked uncomfortable. "I've just got some, uh…some debts…just a little bit of gambling, just had a bad day or two."

"You're not really family, Gertie, so how about volunteering to take less of a share than the rest of us?" a woman with short, curly hair lisped, obviously tipsy.

The woman who presumably was Gertie glared in return. "How about coming up for air, Ethel? Maybe some tea to go with that hooch?"

Uncomfortable silence followed this sarcastic question. Nancy felt Frank's eyes on her again and she winced, knowing she'd forgotten. "Shutup, Ethel, you drunk!" Nancy said loudly. "That's my mother, and she deserves as much money as the rest of us!"

"Don't act superior to us!" a young woman snapped.

The butler stepped forward from his position against the far wall. "We are finished here," he said smoothly. "My name is Jeeves, and I am Colonel Henri Dijon's butler. If you have questions at any time, I will do my best to answer them without spoiling too much of the weekend. Celie"—he pointed toward a slightly plump woman in a large white apron—"will have a buffet-style dinner out beginning at 5:30, so you can spend the remaining hours of the afternoon meeting your fellow guests, exploring the plantation, or relaxing in your rooms or at the cash bar at the end of this hall. Your suitcases have been placed inside your rooms for your convenience. All parties will reconvene at 6:00 at the latest in this room to begin our evening." Jeeves nodded his head in dismissal and opened the door next to him.

Everyone left quietly, not wanting to break the mood. Everyone except for Frank, that is, who clapped Clarence on the shoulder and said, "You can't even give me a ballpark figure of what he's worth, chum?"


	2. Chapter 2

Frank exhaled forcefully and rolled back to his side of the bed.

Nancy stared wide-eyed at the ceiling, waiting for her heartbeat to slow and her vision to clear. When she could speak, she hissed, " _Frank_! I told you try to try to be _quiet_! How are we ever going to show our faces at dinner? This old plantation house has paper-thin walls!"

Frank shrugged and grinned mischievously, somewhat out of breath. "What?" he managed. "We're a married couple, playing a married couple. And don't blame me, your sound effects drowned out the mattress." He leaned over and kissed Nancy's forehead. "Happy first anniversary, sweetheart. The last 365 days have been the best of my life, and the next will be even better."

"You've got that right." Nancy propped herself up on one elbow and kissed her husband on his nose. "This role-playing overnight is such a sweet idea, honey, and so creative. We're going to have such a good time."

"I'm glad you're saying that, Nancy. You know, you're an awfully difficult person to shop for." Frank peered up at Nancy, pretending to be annoyed. "Let's see, you don't like romantic dinners…"

"Why would you just sit there while somebody makes your food? Waste of time."

"Or flowers…"

Nancy rolled her eyes. "They die in a couple of days."

"Or chocolates…"

"I like savory foods, not sweet. Anyway, I get your point, and you don't have to bang your head against a wall every year for me, dear. But this is a nice idea for our first." Nancy nodded toward Frank's nightstand. "How much time do we have? Why don't we review the rules again?"

Frank sat up and looked at his watch. "4:30 now, so we technically don't need to be anywhere until 5:30. Are you recovered from that long raft ride across the bayou?"

"I'm fine, thanks. It was nice of them to make it so old-fashioned and realistic for us. They must have a motorboat somewhere on the island for safety, though."

"I'm sure. This really is quite an opportunity, roaming around on an old plantation like this with virtually no red tape. I guess the family decided not to go the traditional route of carefully preserving Misty Acres as a historical landmark." Frank took his copy of the rules and list of characters and handed Nancy her copy.

Nancy arched an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure they're making plenty of money with these types of events they do. I can only guess what you paid for this, Frank." Frank put an arm around her, and she nestled into his chest. "Come on, let's review the rules one more time."

"Okay, I'll start." Frank skipped the introductory paragraphs and got right to the rules. "The only staff on this island right now that we know of are the people playing the parts of Henri Dijon, who is the man in the wheelchair, and Jeeves, his butler, who is the gamemaster. They will try their best to stay in character all night, but they will answer questions shortly and discreetly if it's really needed. They don't give hints, though."

"We're professionals, we don't need hints anyway," Nancy teased.

"Of course not," Frank agreed, hiding a smile. "There's also a bartender in one of the downstairs rooms, but he has nothing to do with the role play. The game starts at 6:00, and starting at 7:00 there will be one murder per hour until the game ends sometime late tonight. There's no guarantee of when the game will end, since they do not disclose the number of survivors, if any. We are each allowed one guess per hour as to who we think the murderer is, if we want to use it. We can guess that there is a different murderer for each character, one serial killer, two or more characters working in cahoots, etc. And we have to keep an ear out for Jeeves to give us prompts throughout the night, especially because we could die at any time!"

Nancy laughed. "So he would tell us where to lie down and play dead?"

"Exactly. The other characters can find the body and gasp for a few minutes, but there will be no searching bodies or anything like that, and then the dead person changes out of their costume and into plain clothes. The person whose character just died can continue to interview other characters and search for clues if they want to, they just can't _be_ interviewed since their character is dead."

"Gotcha," Nancy said. "I have a personalized script for my character in my suitcase, right?"

"Yes, and start becoming very familiar with it. Your character is required to be in certain locations at certain times to act out scenes that give everyone clues. For instance, if you and I are scheduled to argue in the dining room, we would give the other characters a minute to gather in the doorway and 'eavesdrop,' and the conversation itself is a clue to the mystery."

Nancy covered her mouth with the sheet to muffle her sound of excitement. "This sounds like such fun!"

Frank grinned. "Everyone is allowed and encouraged to interview anyone else at any time, and remember, the more information we give to others, the more they will want to give to us. If we need to break character throughout the night, we announce "Break character," but we should do it as little as possible to keep to the integrity of the game."

Nancy took over reading. "Jeeves, the butler-slash-gamemaster, will shut a door when he is setting up props and/or characters for a scene. Other than doors that Jeeves briefly closes, plus this residential hallway where we're all staying, there are _no restricted areas_ on the plantation. They stress that repeatedly. We can take anything, move any items that we might need, as long as we don't take it with us off the island tomorrow. They just ask that if something is obviously a clue _at murder scenes only_ , examine it and leave it at the scene for others to find too."

Frank finished. "These are the following questions that we are trying to answer for each murder. Who killed the first character, second character, and so forth? What is the motive for each? What conversations lead you to that conclusion? What physical clues around the plantation lead you to that conclusion? So they want evidence, too, not just blind guesses."

"What does the winner get?" Nancy asked.

Frank's eyes twinkled. "Fifty percent off any event next year."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Nancy laughed. She swung a foot out of bed, using the momentum to stand up, and began putting her costume back on. "Like we're just going to hop, skip, and jump back to Louisiana for their next event!"

"I guess not," Frank agreed. "But this week off is just what we needed. Thanks for agreeing to come down here with my parents, Nance, even though it's our first anniversary. They weren't interested in this overnight role-play, but they had a great time seeing the historical plantations, Baton Rouge, the French Quarter…"

"And your mother sampling Cajun food at every restaurant, in denial each time that she can handle spicy food. She gets so caught up in the local culture, who knows what would have happened if we'd brought her here a few months ago for Mardi Gras." Tugging on her shoes, Nancy began laboriously accessorizing in the mountains of jewelry that her character never left home without. "What time are we meeting up with your parents tomorrow morning?"

Frank had remained in bed, watching his wife dress. "The brochure said the raft would have us back on the shoreline at 11:00, so they'll meet us there with the rental car. They're only staying twenty minutes away from where they'll pick us up at the shore. You know, I love you in that dress, Nancy, but I love you out of it, too."

"Rise and shine, dahhhling, it's time to go exploring." Nancy threw Frank his 1920s suit. "We need to make up for lost time and explore this island. I want to do a full walk around the perimeter before dinner. Joe will never let us hear the end if the trained detectives aren't the ones to solve this murder mystery."


	3. Chapter 3

"Hold my reticule, husband," Nancy said, handing Frank her purse while she locked their room door.

"Was this the style a hundred years ago?" Frank said in disbelief, examining the purse. "Are you planning on carrying bodies in this thing?"

"When I read that we're allowed to move props, I decided to bring a big, sturdy one," Nancy said innocently. "So far we have a notebook and pencil, a magnifier, character descriptions, and character scripts. We won't cheat and look at each other's scripts."

"Funny, I feel something heavier in here."

Nancy shrugged. "Well, maybe a couple of flashlights fell into this bag and it was too much effort to take them out again."

"I don't believe they were around in 1925. My wife is a cheater."

"I looked it up, and the first prototype of a flashlight was created in 1899," Nancy said. "Not this kind, of course, but come on, there are some things I can't compromise on."

An older woman passed them, looking Frank up and down with obvious disgust. Nancy blushed, assuming that she'd overheard them several minutes ago.

"I don't know what my daughter sees in you," the woman sneered at Frank, shaking her fist.

Nancy gawked at her, stunned, and then recovered just in time. "Now Mother," Nancy responded in what she hoped was a chic Hollywood accent, "How many times do I have to tell you? I married this man and I will stand by him, and you will respect my decisions."

"Where did I go wrong?" the woman muttered, dismissing them with a wave of her hand.

Nancy and Frank rushed to the end of the residential hallway, opened and closed the door, and now stood at the top of the grand staircase. They stared wide-eyed at each other, then giggled softly to themselves. "Let's get out of this house before we meet anyone else. We've got to get this character list straight," Nancy said.

Fortunately they met no one else as they walked down the huge, elegant staircase, admiring an old-fashioned chandelier and a rusted suit of armor. "Does this fellow have a part to play?" Frank joked, stepping out of axe's reach to exit through the main front door.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "I don't think he would have taken a swing at you, Frank. Let's walk straight ahead until we reach the swamp."

"Bayou," Frank corrected. "And why am I still carrying this reticule?"

"So I can read this character list to you. Wow, look how beautiful this is," Nancy said, taking a deep breath and looking around her. "This hedge path is gorgeous, and we'll have to see later where each path goes. Yup, it looks like there's a fence all around the island. I guess they had to do that much, to avoid lawsuits for these mystery weekends."

"You didn't announce that you were breaking character," Frank pointed out.

Nancy poked him. "The game isn't on until…what time is it?"

Frank checked his watch, a too-modern wrist watch that he'd pushed up his arm to hide underneath his suit. "4:55."

"Well, this island is small," Nancy mused, coming to a stop beside the fence that encircled the island at the shoreline. "We should have time to complete a full lap before dinner. That will be helpful to possibly check alibis later, see where everyone was in proximity to the bodies. We should be in the dining room right at 5:30, as everyone will be most enthusiastic and revealing of information right at the beginning of the game. We would have had time to do some real exploring if I hadn't been seduced by a serial killer suspect earlier this afternoon."

"Actually, I believe you seduced me," Frank said, swatting the seat of her dress. "Good thing for you there's no law enforcement on this godforsaken island."

"When do we start walking?" Nancy asked, taking the character list out of the purse.

Frank looked at his watch again, counting the seconds. "Four…three…two…one, it is now exactly 4:57. Let's go."

They began walking casually, trying to keep an even, normal pace. "First of all, let's figure out who we are," Nancy said. "Who are you, Frank?"

"I am Frank Spruce, related to the family only through marrying you," Frank said. "I am handsome and charming, of course, and quite used to women following me around. I have a variety of bad habits, compulsive gambling among them. I have an undercurrent of hostility, exuding an impression that I am not a person to be crossed. And who are you?"

"I am Nancy Spruce, one of Colonel Henri's two nieces," Nancy responded. "My mother is Gertie. I claim to be a successful Hollywood actress, although I have only really been in a few minor roles. I wear a feather boa, jewels, and a luxurious gown every day of the year. Sometimes I can use my beauty to intimidate others."

"That's for sure," Frank said. "Tell me all of the other characters according to how they are related to our great benefactor, Colonel Henri."

"Colonel Henri never married and had no children, and was mostly a recluse, living here with only his three staff members after he was wounded in the Spanish-American War," Nancy read aloud. "He was wounded in 1898 and it is now 1925 in our story, so it's no wonder that he thinks of his staff as family. Jeeves, the butler, is a brooding sort of man, speaking mostly in monosyllables, and gives off a disconcerting feeling of secretiveness. Fifi is a pretty French maid, pleasant, and friendly, but more cunning than she pretends to appear. Celie is a middle-aged cook, friendly underneath a professional exterior, keeps to herself and has been rumored to dabble in voodoo."

"Uh-oh," Frank says.

"Maybe we'll find some poked dolls around here," Nancy grinned. "Clarence Sparrow, Henri's attorney for many years, is a dapper man in his mid-forties, capable of much sneakiness. Years in the courtroom, plus managing professional documents and relationships to his advantage, has taught him how to use words and situations strategically. Wilbur C. Feels, Henri's personal physician for many years, is a pudgy man in his mid-fifties, appearing nervous and sweats profusely. Perhaps he samples his own wares?"

"We can't help but suspect the doctor," Frank commented. "Not only does he have an estimation of when Henri might kick the bucket, but he could also keep that information to himself and tell Henri inaccurate information, or find ways to speed up that date."

"But he's also the most obvious. These kind of events would want to have twist endings, I would assume. Looks like we've walked ninety degrees around the plantation house, Frank, which is right in the center of the island," Nancy said. "More hedge gardens. The scenery changes, though. I remember seeing small buildings briefly when we arrived on the raft a few hours ago."

"You're right, I remember them too. So we've got three servants, the maid and the cook being guests just like the rest of us, only Henri and Jeeves as staff. We've got the doctor and the lawyer. That leaves five family members, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yes. Colonel Henri had one younger brother and one younger sister. His younger brother, now dead of natural causes, married Gertie for love, a merchant's daughter of no distinction in society. They had one child, me, and I married you, Frank, for your great charm and looks. So the rest of the family isn't too thrilled about my mother or you receiving any money, since you two are only in-laws."

"Works out great for me, doesn't it? But I could pay off even more gambling debts if I knocked off a few of the others." Frank side-stepped a log. "You or I could be the murderer, you know, Nancy. We won't know until the end. Every hour we're still alive increases our chances. Oh, Nancy, watch your dress!"

"Whoa!" Nancy stopped where she was, frozen at the edge of a sudden deep, watery bog that had been invisible just a moment ago. Frank gripped both of her arms to steady her. "Just step back with me, Nancy, I'll keep your balance," Frank said, and Nancy carefully did as told. Her high heels sucked out of the mud, and Nancy quickly assessed herself once she was again on solid ground. The bottoms of the heels were someone muddy, but her dress was fine.

"That was close," Frank said.

But Nancy was already distracted, peering at the bog in front of her. "Look how far inland the bayou is, Frank," she said. "We're going to have to walk way around this patch. I understand that the tide is coming in, but they would have accounted for the tide when they put this fence up. And how would an island this small possibly have been a competitive plantation during the Civil War?" She turned sadly to Frank. "I think I know why they're not investing in this as an historical landmark. The island is sinking. By the time our kids have kids, the bayou might almost have swallowed this adorable little patch of land."

Frank's eyes turned soft. He touched Nancy's elbow gently. "So you're reconsidering having children, Nancy?"

"That's not—I was just giving a timeline that—" Nancy flustered. "That was not the focal part of what I was saying! Come on, Frank, we've got to keep walking. These couple of minutes already messed up our timing on how long it takes to circle the island." She hurried around the expanding bayou, keeping a careful eye on her feet to avoid the water.

Frank caught up to her, silently berating himself for bringing up such a sensitive subject on their anniversary. They did not speak again until they were again next to the perimeter fence, this time on dry land. "We're halfway around the house now, as you can see that we're directly on the other side of the plantation house," Frank announced. He looked at his watch. "5:14 and twenty seconds. So we'll estimate fifteen minutes to walk halfway, so about a half hour to complete our circle."

"But let's keep walking anyway, so we have an overlay of the island before dinner," Nancy said, once again relaxed since Frank had allowed a change of subject. "See over there? Those are the little structures we saw earlier."

"That little wooden one must the chapel, because of the stained glass," Frank suggested. "There's no way wood would survive like that from a hundred and fifty years ago, so it must be restored."

"Or parts," Nancy agreed. "What's that, a tower?"

"Looks like a bell tower," Frank mused. "I can't imagine the bell would work after all this time."

"There's a carriage house, or a storage shack, or something, for the maintenance of this place. Again maybe modern," Nancy said. "And there's…must be a child's playhouse? Look how far down adults would have to crouch to get into it."

Frank looked at his watch. "Sorry, love, it's 5:24."

"Then your estimate of a half-hour to circle the island looks to be about correct, but let's finish our circle quickly," Nancy said, picking up her pace.

"We've still got two more characters to discuss," Frank reminded her.

"Oh, right. Well, remember I said that Colonel Henri had a younger brother and a younger sister. Gertie is the dead younger brother's wife, I am their only child, you are my no-good husband. The younger sister is Ethel, the woman from the tea table this afternoon with the short, curly hair. Years of hard drinking have taken their toll, and she is rarely seen without a drink in her hand. She fell apart and started drinking after her husband committed suicide fifteen years ago after a history of "melancholy," otherwise known as depression. Their only child, Lillian, is also here, a rebellious flapper, Henri Dijon's other niece. Twenty years old, known to hang around speakeasies, smoke, and run around with several young men. Assertive and outgoing, but deep down she may be a lonely, insecure girl."

"And therefore your cousin, although I'm sure you're not close," Frank said.

They reached the end of the circle, and were exactly where they'd started. Nancy turned to Frank, beaming up at him in excitement. Her enthusiasm was contagious, and Frank knew that he'd chosen exactly the right adventure to fit his wife's personality. He smiled down at her, his brown eyes twinkling.

"Time for me to escort you into dinner, Wife," he said with an eyebrow arched mysteriously. "It is 5:30. The game is afoot."


	4. Chapter 4

Nancy and Frank were the last to arrive in the dining room, now sumptuously laden with delicious-smelling Southern food. Their fellow guests stood chatting and eating, casually interrogating each other…and Nancy knew that she was too excited to eat much.

"Please eat something, Nancy," Frank growled in her ear. "I know what you're thinking, and please try to calm yourself long enough to put something in your stomach."

"Digestion interferes with my thinking," Nancy said, trying to quote BBC's _Sherlock_. "Nevertheless I will try, for you." She ladled herself a generous portion, and turned to Frank.

Frank also had a plate of food in his hand, and was carefully surveying the room. "This is heaven," he said to her. "All these future victims and suspects, ripe and eager for nosy questions."

"And we don't have to worry about being rude," Nancy added. "They'll just think our character must be rude. See what you can get from the men, and I'll chat up the women."

"So much for an anniversary dinner together," Frank said half-sulkily, but Nancy could tell that he was beginning to get caught up in the game as well.

Nancy allowed her plate to clatter loudly on the table. "Evening, ladies," she sniffed, her nose in the air. "Must be awfully exciting, for women of _your_ means to suddenly expect such an increase in income." _I could get used to playing this character,_ Nancy thought mischievously.

"What movie were you in again?" her cousin Lillian replied sarcastically. "Maybe in a few days it will play in, what, twelve silent theatres across the country?"

Nancy would have loved to continue this banter, but she also wanted clues. "What do you think of all this, Auntie Ethel?" she asked, turning to the woman with salt-and-pepper curly hair. "What's Henri really up to?"

"My brother is a penny-pinching old miser," Ethel responded, gazing lovingly into the contents of her wine glass. "That's why he lives way out here. He got a spasm of guilt and wants to give some money away before he dies, because he knows that's the only way he might be able to bribe his way past the pearly gates."

"How dare you, Mother," her daughter Lillian responded crisply. "Uncle Henri is a war hero. He's done many things for other people over the years, and now even in his last days he is thinking of others rather than himself."

"Ha!" Gertie chortled. "Are you starting to taste some of your mother's concoctions, dear?"

Lillian bristled. "You all don't understand him. I know him better than anyone. Uncle Henri and I are quite close, and you people are ignorant and jealous." She turned away from the group.

Nancy continued asking questions about various other characters, and after several minutes concluded that no one seemed to like anyone else. Every name she brought up was met with laughs and jeers, and she found herself gazing out the window at the slowly darkening sky. She made a quick decision. "Pardon me, ladies," she said with a stiff nod as the butler cleared her empty plate. _I must have been hungrier than I realized,_ she thought, and grabbed a second biscuit before tapping her husband on the shoulder.

"Here's the old ball and chain herself," Frank announced to the group, taking his leave. "Excuse me, gentlemen." Nancy led him from the room.

"See? I ate a good dinner, and here's further proof," Nancy said, taking a bite of the biscuit. "Follow me and tell me what you found out from the guys."

"Pretty dysfunctional group," Frank commented wryly. "Even though nobody liked each other, I still think people are working together. I couldn't get any specifics out of anybody. I think it'll pick up at 7:00 after the first murder."

"And it'll suck if it's one of us that gets murdered," Nancy commented, chewing thoughtfully. "Oh well. But I was thinking the same thing, so I think these last rays of daylight would be better spent searching the plantation."

"Fine," Frank answered. "Lead the way."

Nancy turned right and exited through the nearest glass door. "You know I can't walk past an old building without exploring it," she said. "Let's start in the back and work our way front."

Nancy and Frank followed the hedge garden toward the back fence. "Let's start with the most boring but the most practical," Nancy decided, and they entered an old carriage house.

Their eyes adjusted to the darkness. Parts of a decrepit carriage lay in the right corner, and a small rowboat, the "Minnow," lay in the left.

"I wonder if one of us will die in this rowboat," Frank mused, peering inside and counting the holes.

"Hmmm," Nancy said. She walked over to a worktable. Gingerly picking up an old rag, she wrapped it around an oilcan so she wouldn't get her hands dirty. She lifted the can. "Plenty of oil in here, Frank," she said, and pulled out her notebook. "Time to start writing lists."

"Oh baby, lists!" Frank called to her. "Just what I wanted to be thinking about on my anniversary night!"

"Oilcan in the carriage house," Nancy said to herself, writing, "and there's crowbar too. Maybe those will come in handy, who knows."

"What are you expecting to do tonight, Nancy? Geez," Frank said, taking her hand and leading her from the carriage house. "What creepy place do you want to visit next?"

"Well, since you're being difficult," Nancy said mischievously, "follow me." Only a hundred feet away stood a dollhouse, large enough for a child to enter.

Frank groaned. "Don't make me look in there, Nancy…please…"

Nancy winked. "Just real quick. It'll be good for you to overcome fears." Frank had always been weirded out by scary-looking dolls, marionettes, and various other childhood paraphernalia.

Nancy crouched down and opened the door. "Not bad," she said, her voice muffled. "It's fine, look at this."

Frank peered into the darkness and saw the remains of a few dolls, a couple of children's chairs, and a chalkboard. This was a creative sort of classroom, or possibly used for a clubhouse. Either way, a haven for children. "Again, I can't help but wonder what they have planned for this location."

"Maybe a doll is the murderer," Nancy teased. "Crap, what time is it?"

"6:43."

"Time for one more," Nancy said. "We can see the chapel from here." It only took a couple of minutes for them to reach the small wooden structure, entering to see a pulpit and pews, modernized sconces in the side walls, and a large, beautiful stained glass window in the front wall.

"Wow," Frank said softly. "If we have some time tomorrow morning, I wouldn't mind sitting here and praying for a few minutes."

"It gives off a powerful vibe," Nancy agreed. Frank walked slowly around the room, examining the icons. Nancy opened a back door and got a perfect view of the small family cemetery, interspersed with individual graves, inscriptions worn from the elements and no longer legible. These were overpowered, however, by two impressive, stately-looking mausoleums. "Come look at this cemetery," she called. "Somehow there are two families involved in this plantation, Dijon and Crouton, and the mausoleums are old and massive."

"Coming," Frank answered. "Cute names, by the way." Nancy heard a creak, and turned to see Frank almost stumble.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked, approaching him.

"Yeah—look at this," Frank said. He crouched down. "Uneven floorboards. There's definitely something here."

"We're not the first to find it, but we must be the first for this particular weekend," Nancy said, joining him. "How do we open this…"

"You've got daintier fingers than me, dear. Let's start by seeing if we can just lift the boards."

Nancy carefully put her fingertips in the space between the floorboards, pulling straight back. Sure enough, the board lifted. They put it to the side.

Frank whistled at what he saw. "Be careful…"

Nancy reached inside the niche and slowly, gingerly lifted the worn leather Bible, using two hands. It was large with big print, King James Version of course, obviously a family heirloom. She laid it on the floor and opened to the front cover. "Check out this genealogy list," Nancy said in awe. "I so badly want a picture of this."

"Photography is crude here in 1925," Frank answered. "Let's just see if there are any patterns we can pick up on."

"The family line at this time is Crouton," Nancy noticed.

"This list goes back to the late 1700s," Frank said. "Francios Pierre Crouton…married Claudette Marie Tourte…let's skip to the end."

"Thomas Simon Crouton married Mary Francis O'Neil in 1848," Nancy said. "The Croutons were already Americanizing their baby names, they don't sound very French anymore. William Thomas Crouton was born in 1851 and died in…1851. How sad."

"And here's the last entry," Frank said. "Sarah Marie Crouton, born 1854." The couple's eyes met.

"So no death date for the father, mother, or daughter," Nancy concluded. "Something tragic must have happened during the Civil War, and this plantation may have been either abandoned or invaded. This Bible was the last thing on anyone's mind." She carefully leafed through the Bible's pages to see if there was anything else. An old letter dropped out, yellowed with age, severely crinkled around the edges.

"Nice find, Nancy," Frank praised, putting his arm around Nancy's waist and leaning over her shoulder.

She opened it cautiously and read aloud. "Sarah, our end is near. The bell will ring solemnly on our final night, and then will sound no more. Sir Lancelot will forever salute us. Do not weep for us, my child. We will watch over you. Do not ever forget. We love you. Mama."

Frank and Nancy looked at each other. "Wasn't expecting this," Nancy said solemnly. "I swear all this looks authentic."

"It sure does, but whatever it is, it must be planted here on purpose and part of the game," Frank said.

Nancy frowned. "Okay…"

Frank jerked his head toward the niche in the floor. "I know because there's something else in there that's a major clue."

Nancy leaned over. "Wow," Nancy said, taking out a small doll. It was two sticks tied together with string, covered in fabric and stuffed with grass, and looked suspiciously like a…voodoo doll.

"Celie," Frank and Nancy said simultaneously, remembering the cook's character description.

Frank swore suddenly and looked at his watch. "6:57," he said, and pulled out his walkie-talkie. "Jeeves, please tell me that me or my wife isn't dead."

After a moment, they received their answer. "Not yet, sir," the butler's voice said cheerfully. "But I suggest you begin searching for foul play."

They put everything back the way they found it, and exited quickly. Nancy swept her gaze around the room one final time before she left, a shudder involuntarily moving up her spine.


	5. Chapter 5

"Let's see a dead body, shall we?" Frank asked, taking Nancy's hand. "Once again we're probably the last to arrive, so we can follow the crowd." As if on cue, they heard the loud grandfather clock chime 7:00 from the plantation house, the sound carrying with the help of the bayou's waters.

"No need to even go inside," Nancy said, nudging Frank. "Look over there."

A crowd of excited people gathered in a loose circle around the bushes of a corner of the plantation house. The second floor windows directly above the bushes were wide open, the curtains rustling in the gentle breeze.

Nancy quickly assessed the crowd, taking a head count. "There's one person missing, so she must be dead in the center of that group, no pun intended," she said. "Looks like it's already my time to ham it up. Watch me make you proud, Frank." She picked up her skirts and ran into the small crowd. "What happened? What happened?" she asked breathlessly. Then, looking down: " _Mother_!"

"She must have fallen out of the window," Clarence interjected quickly, and Dr. Feels added: "It's the only reasonable medical explanation." Nancy didn't answer, kneeling next to the body of Gertie, who was desperately trying not to laugh. "Mother, oh, Mother!" Nancy screeched. "Why did we always have to fight all the time over my choice of husband? Oh, I take back everything I said! No…" Nancy gripped the stranger on the ground, making sounds of wild sobbing.

"Now, dear," Frank said uncertainly.

Nancy whirled on him. "You never loved Mother, you brute!" she shouted. "Don't try to comfort me now. And if any of you people had anything to do with this, I'll find out!" Nancy stood up, discreetly scanned the area for clues and, seeing none, stalked into the house, Frank on her heels.

He shut the door and burst out laughing. "That was great, Nancy! Didn't know you had it in you!"

Nancy grinned. "Can't believe my mother was the first to go. Looks like you're Prime Suspect Number One, Frank, with me not far behind." She looked around her. "Where are we? What room is this?"

"Looks like the colonel's study," Frank said, heading toward the desk.

"These two large cabinets are labeled 'weapons,' but they're locked," Nancy said, standing back and assessing.

"Nancy, come to the desk," Frank said, his voice strange. "There's a gun here."

"Just out in the open?" Nancy said in surprise, hurrying over. She rolled her eyes when she saw. "Geez. I like the type, too. This will have a part to play before the end."

Frank laughed, pulling her gently by the arm. "While all those amateurs gawk at the body, let's go look at the real crime scene, huh? We've got to get upstairs."

They passed through the library, then were forced to take a right and walk all the way down the hallway to the grand staircase. They passed the suit of armor again, and Nancy looked at it thoughtfully as they passed.

"Here we are," Frank said, following the breeze to the room with the open window. He looked outside, and the small crowd was finally beginning to disperse. "Look at this overturned table and messed up carpet. Definitely signs of a struggle before she took a nosedive out the window."

"So it was a murder? I thought we came out here to discover a case of serial suicides," Nancy replied saucily, earning herself another spank from her husband. "Ouch. There's got to be something juicy around here. Oh, look—Ethel's handkerchief."

"Yup, she was holding her booze with that at dinner," Frank confirmed.

Nancy jotted her findings in her notebook. "So we know it wasn't Ethel, because that's too obvious."

"I found the jackpot," Frank said. He'd opened a drawer by the bed. "A deed—she was selling land to Clarence Sparrow, the lawyer. At what appears to be a very cheap rate."

"So Gertie and Clarence are in cahoots. Maybe the land is more valuable so he's getting one over on her, or maybe she's scheming something so he had to knock her off. Too early to tell." Nancy put her notebook away. "Speculating will be useless before the third murder, I think. People are coming, put that back. I have to show you something right now, while people are distracted. Don't stop to talk to anyone."

Frank did as told as Clarence appeared menacingly at the door, the others on his heels. "Hey, pal, I think we should ask you some questions about where you were when all this happened," the lawyer snapped. "How come you were the last to arrive? Cleaning up this room, perhaps?"

"Then don't let me disturb you while you do your investigation," Frank shot back. "You're a scumbag lawyer, not a judge, and I don't have to answer anything." Nancy dragged him away.

Frank walked quickly beside her. "You know, if I'm prime suspect I really should be willing to be interrogated," Frank said as Nancy herded him down the stairs.

"You'll talk later. Plus this makes you look even more suspicious, so people are still having fun." Nancy stopped directly in front of the suit of armor. "Remember the note? In the Bible?"

Frank stared at the armor for a moment. "Sir Lancelot will forever salute you," he said slowly.

"I see nothing else on this plantation that note could possibly be referring to."

Frank analyzed his wife's features. "What are you hatching, Nancy?"

"That note referred to a bell tower, which we have on this plantation, and Sir Lancelot, which we have on this plantation. I think this fellow is hiding something, and we have an oilcan in the carriage house. It says in the rules that we're allowed to use props however we want."

"You really think they bring people out here every weekend to put oil on suits of armor?" Frank snapped. "That's crazy, Nancy, and disrespectful—"

"I'm doing this with or without your help, Frank," Nancy retorted, "but without, it will be a lot more difficult, and dangerous, since I won't be able to lay him down by myself. Everybody's coming out of that room in a hot minute so I would appreciate if you could grab the helmet and drag him out to the carriage house so we can do surgery properly."

Frank's stance radiated tension, his eyes sparking with anger. He met Nancy's eyes steadily for another moment, and then silently tipped the helmet end toward him, dulled axe facing the ground. Nancy took the feet and they stumbled as best they could out the front door, Nancy in heels. She almost dropped her end, one foot of the armor clanging against the ground. They looked at each other in trepidation, then Nancy re-adjusted her grip. "Go-go-go-go," she hissed, "behind this hedge." They went as fast as they could, considering that the suit was bulky and about seventy pounds, and took a break when they were relatively concealed.

Frank couldn't wait until the carriage house to begin speaking. "I didn't appreciate that ultimatum, Nancy," he said in a low voice, showing his anger. "We are a couple and we make decisions together. I know we were under time pressure, and I'm sorry that I am a human being and needed time to digest what you were suggesting, but you don't automatically call the shots."

Nancy felt a wave of guilt. "I'm sorry, Frank, but like you said, we didn't have much time"—Frank's scowl deepened. Nancy stopped herself. "No buts. I don't want you to think of me as a bully. I'm sorry, and we can put this guy back if you want to."

Frank sighed, putting an arm around Nancy and kissing her forehead. "Thanks, Nance, that's all I wanted to—shh!"

Frank kept Nancy close to him, not moving at all as he heard footsteps close by. Nancy could see nothing from her position against Frank's shoulder. Finally, in the far periphery of his vision, Frank saw Jeeves walking by. Jeeves looked directly at Frank, then down at the suit of armor. He winked and kept walking back into the plantation house.

Frank relaxed his hold on Nancy, and she pulled away. "What?" she whispered hoarsely. "What happened?"

"Jeeves the gamemaster just looked directly at us and winked," Frank said simply. "So we're either on to something or he thinks we're fools, but either way he doesn't care that we're messing around with a suit of armor. What kind of a place is this? What kind of a game are we in?"

Nancy just looked at him blankly, at a loss on how to respond. The front door of the plantation opened and they were both on alert again.

Frank shrugged. "Looks like we're in all the way with this guy. Come on, let's head to the left." The next few minutes were spent in strategic contemplation, and after only one wrong turn they burst into the door of the carriage house. They lifted the suit of armor and dumped him gracelessly into the "Minnow" rowboat, then gazed wide-eyed at each other, panting in exhaustion. Slowly the full ridiculousness of their situation dawned on them. Nancy let out an unladylike guffaw.

"Never a dull moment with you, sweetheart," Frank grinned, holding out his arms. Nancy sank into them gratefully. Frank held her tightly. "Don't ever think of me as a ball and chain, Nancy, please," Frank said softly into her ear.

"I don't, I never have, I was just being a jerk so I could get this done. I'll have better priorities next time." Nancy pulled away and looked at Frank…and they began passionately kissing, pawing at each other like newlyweds. Nancy gasped as Frank pinned her to the wall, eagerly exploring, yet Frank was the one who pulled away after a minute.

"We'll finish this tomorrow night," Frank panted. "Right now we're on the job. How should we proceed with this autopsy?"

Nancy brushed past him and bent way over the rowboat, giving Frank one final tease. "Well, there's not too many places to hide things on a hollow suit of armor," she mused. "Also, if we can extrapolate from the storyline, a girl's parents were trying to give her hints to find something…they wouldn't put it near joints, or near the axe, because obviously she could get hurt. So it should be relatively straightforward, but not so out in the open that anyone could find it."

"Sounds like we're talking about the helmet, then. Good news for us, since the whole suit won't be destroyed if we only oil the head." Frank checked his watch. "It's 7:26, honey, so let's move the Minnow toward the window so we can do this with as much sun as we can get."

Frank and Nancy made the necessary adjustments, putting the armor on its side. "Look at this," Nancy said. "It's got to be this joint, right in the back of the head. It makes sense, since it's still discreet. Obviously they don't find this every week, considering how tight the joint looks."

Frank sighed. "Tight? It's rusted through, Nance. This hasn't been oiled in a long…long…long time." He shrugged. "But it's our anniversary and I'm glad we're having fun. Let me do the oiling, considering your dress."

Nancy gasped and looked down. Miraculously, she had again come out from an escapade unscathed. "Thanks."

Frank put on a pair of gloves. Using the old rag, Frank held the oilcan over the joint, trying to contain the flow of oil. Once that part of the helmet was soaked, he put the oilcan down and continued rubbing with the rag, applying a generous amount of pressure. It still took several minutes for him to work through the crusty layer. Finally he was able to force the joint to the side, far enough for him to see another yellowing, brittle piece of paper. "You have the honors," Frank said to Nancy.

Nancy clapped her hands together excitedly, pinching her small fingers through the opening and maneuvering the paper out of its prison. She carefully unfolded it, and saw handwriting that was identical to the note in the Bible. "Our dearest daughter, Sarah," Nancy read aloud, "We knew you would know to look inside the armor. This war is terrible! We fear our end is near. In case you're not the only one to find this note, we won't give too much away. Use this valve handle with your favorite water nymph. Don't ever forget…we love you very much! Mama and Papa." Nancy lowered the note thoughtfully.

"So I guess there's a valve handle in here," Frank said. "I'll get back to work." Eventually Frank could force the joint farther to the side, and he and Nancy worked together to pinch a small metal handle and wiggle it out through the opening.

Frank took off his gloves. The couple looked at each other, and Nancy raised her eyebrows. "Good thing I brought this big reticule, huh, Frank?" she asked, tucking the handle inside. "Grab some more rags, I think I'm going to take this oilcan with us. Among our many duties, we must be on the lookout for a water nymph."


	6. Chapter 6

"It's just not right!" Dr. Feels whined, his head in his hands. "We've got to tell him about it!"

"No!" Clarence responded curtly. "It'll work out, Wilbur. I've got plans."

"How are you going to replace that hundred grand that we took from Henri?" Dr. Feels pressed. "Where would you get that kind of money?"

Nancy shifted to the right so others could see as well. She and Frank were at the entrance to the library, "eavesdropping" on Clarence and Dr. Feels with the other players.

"I know people," Clarence said soothingly, as if speaking to a child. "I'll get it done. Trust me."

"Why were we so stupid as to buy into a racehorse, anyway? And to use Henri's money! We should have known better!"

"Because it would've worked out, that's why," Clarence said, sipping his drink. "It's not our fault that horse broke his leg."

"All I can say, Clarence, is that you'd better do something fast," Dr. Feels practically moaned. "I can't take it much longer. I want to 'fess up."

"I'll take care of it!" Clarence said sharply, losing patience. "Just don't say anything!" Clarence stalked out of the room and the scene disbursed.

Nancy turned to Frank. "Okay, so Clarence is starting to look bad. He's got his hand in every cookie jar. But it's too soon in the game. I still say it's a red herring."

"Or he's in the background," Frank mused. "Pulling strings, but able to keep the blood off his own hands. Lawyers are good at that kind of thing. Uh-oh, what are you thinking, Nancy?"

Nancy was gazing into the corner of the room. "Do you see something missing, Frank?"

Frank followed her gaze, and they both walked over to the old-fashioned elevator shaft. "Sure. There's no elevator."

"I'd like to know where that elevator is." Nancy looked at Frank meaningfully. "It's got to be on the second floor."

Frank shrugged. "Lead the way, toots."

"You keep an eye on your husband, madam," Fifi, the French nurse, said huffily on her way by.

Nancy gave Frank a playful look as they left the room. "You've been seducing ze French vomen, mon ami?"

"Not any more than usual," Frank answered truthfully, counting the number of rooms on the first floor. They both stifled smirks as they walked up the grand staircase, trying not to look at the bare section where the suit of armor used to be.

"All right, it should be four rooms down on the left," Frank commented, and they stopped at the doorway and peered in.

"Hey-hey, look at this," Nancy said softly, entering and assessing her surroundings. "We're in the lion's den itself. This is Colonel Henri Dijon's bedroom."

"You've found something missing, I've found something that should be missing," Frank said drily.

Nancy turned and looked where he was pointing. "His wheelchair. Nice. Didn't realize those things were optional."

"So either the actor playing Henri Dijon forgot to take it with him, or this is a clue," Frank concluded. "And the colonel isn't a social butterfly, anyway. Where is he? Why isn't he in his bedroom?"

"Which brings us back to why we came up here," Nancy said. She gestured to the elevator shaft. "Still no elevator. But there's only two floors in this plantation house. Forgive me, but I must…" Nancy braced herself with both hands and peered up the elevator shaft. "Yup. I see it. On the third floor."

"So there's a third floor," Frank said thoughtfully. "I've got to admit, I'm curious too. Whoa-back up!"

Although startled, Nancy immediately moved back. The sound of old machinery groaning with its burden was a sure signal that the elevator was descending to their level. Nancy grabbed Frank's hand and they quickly left the room, but Frank stopped her at the doorway.

"We need to assume that everything is part of the game," he said to her. "Let's see what happens."

The creaking elevator unsteadily, slowly, but surely, ground its way to a halt. The tall, healthy figure of Colonel Dijon opened the elevator gate, pointedly ignoring Frank and Nancy at their obviously visible location in the doorway. He turned a key in the elevator and pulled it out, then calmly walked over to a tiny replica of a military cannon that was resting on his fireplace mantel. He opened a slot in the back of the cannon, placed the elevator key inside, and shut the small hidden compartment. Then he walked back to his wheelchair and sat down. Never once did he acknowledge Frank and Nancy's presence.

Frank and Nancy looked at each other. Although still processing what she'd just seen, Nancy also didn't want to waste an opportunity for questioning. But before she began speaking, the large grandfather clock started to chime loudly.

"8:00," Frank said when it had finished. "Let's see who's the next one down."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone following this story. You all mean the world to an author. An additional thanks to those "guests" who review anonymously—wish I could thank you personally!

The Hardys didn't have to search for long, since they could hear the commotion as they walked down the grand staircase. "So we need to find a time when dear Uncle Henri is not in his bedroom, so we can try out the third floor," Nancy said in conclusion as they reached the first floor.

"What's going on here?" they could hear Aunt Ethel screech.

"If you ask me, he experimented on himself and got what he deserved," Lillian commented drily.

The crowd had gathered in the library. Frank and Nancy entered, jostling for a position.

Dr. Wilbur C. Feels lay prostrate on the floor, a smudge of blood (chocolate sauce, Nancy thought) on his upper left temple. A fireplace poker, also smudged with blood, lay close by. Dr. Feels's medical bag lay open and on its side, a clue which Nancy made a mental note to jot in her notebook later. The medical bag seemed not to be related to the cause of death, but why would it be here? Was Dr. Feels really using his medical supplies for some reason? And was the location of the library significant?

"Again you're the last to show, you young reprobate," Clarence Darrow snapped in Frank's direction. Frank retorted haughtily, but moved to the side with Clarence for cross-interrogation. Nancy ignored the cast of characters for the moment, peering inside the medical bag. As a professional, she knew she should actually be theorizing on what might be _missing_ from the bag.

She saw a stethoscope, a thermometer, a generous supply of a bottle labeled "Morphine." Dr. Feels may have been an addict, but what would that information contribute to the storyline? Aside from the morphine, Dr. Feels appeared to have the normal diagnostic tools, but what about treatment options for patients?

Nancy caught sudden movement from the corner of her eye. Fifi had quickly caught up with Jeeves, the butler. She whispered something into his ear that made him smile shyly. He took her hand in his and the two quickly left the room.

So the butler and the maid were romantically involved. Clichéd, but cute and interesting.

Frank joined her. "People are dropping like flies, Nancy, and we will never have a second chance to interview Gertie or the good doctor. We need to start talking to the other characters or forever give up those clues."

"I agree. So much to do, so little time." She glanced slyly at him as she said this, and he raised an eyebrow in response. They both did their best work under pressure.

"Looks like something's happening in the kitchen," Ethel pointed out to the two of them, not intoxicated during the current moment. Nancy thanked her, and she and Frank followed the crowd to stand outside the kitchen.

Celie, the cook, stood next to the kitchen table, rolling dough with a rolling pin. Lillian sat at the table, watching her.

"You know how they all are," Lillian said in a dejected tone, with a hint of anger.

"It'll be fine, Missy Lillian! You'll see," Celie reassured her.

"They don't appreciate him like I do! They're all waiting for him to die, waiting to collect. I feel like I'm the only one who knows him…and to find that he is distributing his money equally among everyone? That's the kind-hearted person that he is. He doesn't see how they are."

"It's just money, Missy," Celie said, pressing a cookie-cutter into the dough. "Don't read too much into it. This weekend will be over soon, so enjoy the family members you want to see now, and forget about the ones you don't like."

"You understand, Celie," Lillian said soothingly. Nancy wondered if she was trying to sooth Celie or herself. "You're the only one who's always understood."

Celie laughed. "Nothing special about me, but thank you."

"It's like there's something about you," Lillian mused. "How do you do it?"

"Nothing," Celie pressed. "Go on with you, go speak to your uncle about all this, clear your head. There's nothing more I can do for you."

"Thanks, Celie," Lillian said with genuine gratitude, giving the cook a quick hug and exiting.

As the scene was obviously over, Nancy quickly approached Celie, hoping that the other characters would take the hint. "What do you think of Lillian, Celie?"

Celie shrugged. "She's going through a tough time. I hope she pulls through."

"And how about Fifi? What about her?"

Celie's eyes darkened. Finished with one tray of cookies, she began rolling out the dough again. "She finds her ways to get ahead in the world. Apparently hard work isn't the only way to increase the odds of success."

"Uh-huh. And Sarah Crouton? What do you think of her?" Nancy asked abruptly.

Celie turned to Nancy, surprised. She blinked. "Sarah Crouton?"

"Yes. The girl listed in the family Bible, in the chapel? I believe you've been out there and seen it. I would like to know what you think happened to her. She was the last person listed on the family line."

Celie squinted at Nancy, then looked over her shoulder. She motioned her head towards the door, and Nancy silently followed Celie outside for further privacy.

Celie turned to one of the back pages of her script. "That poor child. It must have been horrible, to lose her family and home the way she did. A long time ago, right before the Civil War, this place was a bustling sugar cane plantation. But during the war, the place was ruined and the owners killed."

Nancy nodded acknowledgement.

"They had a daughter, Sarah, who was away at school during all the trouble, and folks around here say that they hid the family jewels somewhere for her to find. As far as anyone knows, she never did. Not long after the war, the poor girl died of a terrible fever. She was weak, since she'd never gotten over losing her family and the plantation like she did. Some say she still haunts the old cemetery, looking for the lost treasure." Celie shrugged and closed her script. "People around here like to believe things."

Nancy raised her eyebrows. "I'm assuming that's everything you know about that subject."

"You'd be assuming correctly."

Nancy smiled. "Thanks, Celie."

Frank opened the kitchen door. "Nancy!" he said urgently. "Where have you been? You're needed for a scene in the billiards room!"

Nancy hurried inside, past him and down the hall, flushing with excitement despite herself. Another opportunity for amateur acting. She pulled out her script just before entering the room, pushing past the characters already gathered. Clarence sat in an old-fashioned armchair, thoughtfully chalking his cue. Nancy sat down gracefully next to him, tipping her nose into the air so she could look down on him.

Clarence's eyes focused on her. "You seem distant, babe. What's the matter?"

Nancy hesitated. "Well, dahhling…this is very difficult."

"What's difficult?" Clarence said.

"Well, you and I…I want to end it."

"Are you joking or something?" Clarence sputtered. "That's ridiculous!"

"No, I'm not joking. I have a new beau—a director, no less!" Nancy smiled dreamily and held a hand over her heart.

"I'll—I'll tell your husband!" Clarence retorted angrily.

Nancy rolled her eyes. "That fool? We're married in name only." Nancy couldn't resist searching the small gathering for Frank's eyes, winking conspiratorially. She was mildly surprised to see a glint in Frank's eyes and a hard, set clench in his jaw. He didn't seem to be sharing in the joke.

"Yeah, well, I have to think about this," Clarence huffed. "See you around, _sweetheart_!" He stalked from the room.

Nancy sighed loudly, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms. Celie and Fifi walked up to her, as the scene was over, and Nancy made herself available for questioning for several minutes. Nancy gave a condescending answer for every question, and discovered that her two companions didn't think highly of most of the other guests either.

Frank approached the group and waited until they were finished. When the conversation was reasonably wrapped up, Nancy made her excuses and joined him. Frank had a glass of wine in each hand.

"Guess what," he laughed, "Ethel just bought everyone a round at the bar. Miraculously, they have Lambrusco here." Frank handed her a small glass.

Nancy looked down at it. "Sweet of you, honey, but you know how I am, digestion interfering with my thinking and all. I'm sure someone else will want it."

Frank looked at her with surprise, and more than a trace of irritation. "Lambrusco is what, 8 percent alcohol? It's our anniversary, and Lambrusco is your favorite."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Nancy said, taking the glass from him. "Come on, let's find some privacy and compare notes." She walked quickly out of the billiard room to the outside, with just enough time to spare to pour half the contents of the wine glass into the bushes before Frank came out.

"Not much on my end, I'm afraid," Frank sighed, taking a sip from his glass. They strolled leisurely, enjoying the tail end of dusk. "These scripts seem to be pretty straightforward. People are defensive of their own immediate family, for the most part, and just give disgusted comments about everybody else. Did you catch the hanky-panky between the butler and the maid?"

"Yes, I did—so she must be trying to somehow earn more money from the Colonel, while Jeeves is the man she really loves." Nancy put an arm around Frank briefly. "Speaking of men that are really loved, what was up with that weird look you gave me during my scene just now?"

Frank was silent for a moment. "A man doesn't enjoy hearing those words from his wife's lips, even if it's a scripted role play. What did you find in the doctor's bag, or not find?"

"I love how our minds work together." Nancy cracked her knuckles methodically, a years-old habit that helped her review and classify information. "No blood, nothing obvious, but I noticed that there were a lack of emergency treatment options in there. In the 1920s, a doctor would have to carry those things with him for house calls. Pills, including sleeping or relaxing agents, and maybe syringes—and, with the hints that Dr. Feels enjoyed taking his own medicine, he must have had quite a supply."

"Which is evidence that the same murderer, or pair of murderers, wanted the means to commit more murders later on, in a variety of creative ways."

"Right," Nancy agreed. "So, to review, an in-law was the first to go, and the doctor was the second. I think it's significant if a staff member isn't the third."

"We'll wait til the next murder to start trying to piece it together. What did you find out from Celie?" Frank pointed to Nancy to turn right, guiding her into a section of hedge garden.

"Sarah Crouton was away at school when this plantation was overrun during the war, and her parents killed. Rumor has it that they left treasure for her hidden somewhere and tried to leave clues for her, but as far as we know, either these are just rumors or she never picked up on the hints."

Nancy turned to Frank just in time to see the gleam in his eye she'd been hoping for. Frank had a special adrenaline rush when it came to treasure hunts. "Excellent," he said, taking her hand and guiding her into the hedge garden.

"Want to tell me where we're going?" Nancy asked, following.

"I didn't discover much while we were separated, but I didn't say I discovered _nothing_ ," Frank said with a wink. "Maybe I bought Ethel a drink as well. And she happened to mention where she'd seen a water nymph."

"From the note in Sir Lancelot!" Nancy gasped.

"It's right around there." Frank nodded to a corner. "Let's go."


	8. Chapter 8

"Wow." Frank whistled. "Mysterious and a tad creepy, especially with the last light of the sun." He absentmindedly put his empty wine glass down and entered the secluded portion of the private hedge garden. Nancy put her glass next to his and followed him inside.

In the center was a small fountain, while a statue of a dancing nymph overlooked it. Perhaps, at one time, it had been a beloved family member's place of quiet contemplation.

"This is certainly the place the note was talking about," Nancy said quietly, feeling the need to respect the mood and space. She pulled a small flashlight from her bag, and handed another to Frank. "Glad I brought these now, huh?"

Frank nodded. He approached the pond and gave the fountain and perimeter a slow but cursory trace with his flashlight, then approached the statue. "The note said to use the valve handle on Sarah's favorite water nymph."

"So we're looking for an opening this size," Nancy said, taking the valve handle from her bag. The end of the valve handle was a small square, only a couple of inches long and wide.

Even knowing what they were looking for, the opening was difficult to find. Frank and Nancy spent a painstaking few minutes examining the statue, especially the rectangular slab it was based on. "Got it," Nancy said.

"That's my smart girl," Frank said and joined her. "No wonder it took us forever. It blends right into the design of the perimeter."

"Right in there among all those blocks and curlicues." Nancy held up the valve handle to the base of the statue. "See, it's a perfect fit, problem being all this moss that's grown. Get the oilcan, will you? We're going to have to slide this fellow in."

"Moss?" Frank said dubiously, but got the can and began applying a generous amount of oil to the valve handle and the base. Nancy picked out the worst of the moss, and together they managed to slide the metal valve handle into the valve shaft where it belonged.

Frank raised his eyebrows. "Cool. Now what? I guess we turn clockwise."

That in itself was another feat, but just as they thought the valve handle would either break or pop out of its spot, they heard a click and the fountain turned on. Or so it attempted…a feeble stream of water bubbled slowly out of the topmost opening.

Nancy laughed. "A tad anticlimactic, but it's trying its best. A working fountain won't lead us to hidden treasure, though. I'm thinking that click must have unlocked something as well."

"If we're lucky, it unlocked the base of the statue." Frank stood up from his crouch, and helped his wife to do likewise. "All we can do is move it around and see if anything's come loose."

"Okay," Nancy agreed. They counted to three, and began pushing on a corner of the base.

"Not working—let's stop." Frank took Nancy's hand and led her around to another corner. "We'll keep pushing from every angle, and we're screwed if this doesn't work."

"All right, let's push the other way this time—eee!" Nancy involuntarily gave a squeak of surprise as the corner easily moved, even without Frank's help.

A strip of grass and dirt was forcibly ripped from its roots as a hidden trapdoor opened in the ground. A gaping black hole stared up at the couple, with makeshift stairs leading underground.

Frank and Nancy stared back, digesting this new course of events. After a moment, Nancy shrugged. "Interesting. Not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. Anyway, let's go."

Frank stopped her just as she was about to enter. "I know you'll want to go first, and I'll be a modern husband and allow it, but my hands will be on your waist the entire time. You will not let go of me down there."

"Agreed," Nancy said with a peck on Frank's cheek. Frank kept his hands on her shoulders as they descended, step by careful step, the fifteen or so dirt stairs it took to reach the bottom. Once on stable ground, they quickly assessed their surroundings.

Frank checked the forcible language that suddenly begged to be released from his lips. "Geez, Nancy. Look at this passage. It is obviously crudely built, it must have been one of those emergency tunnels that people were creating for safety and hiding in during the wars, and, most significantly, it goes as far as the eye can see."

"Creepy and dangerous," Nancy agreed.

Frank raked a hand through his hair, apprehensive. "How can this possibly be part of the game? The moss growing in the valve shaft, the grass firmly rooted in place? Nobody's been down here in forever."

"Yet Celie knew all about this treasure storyline, enough to give me tantalizing little hints. It's in the script, so it's part of the story, all right." Nancy, naturally less cautious of her own personal safety than the average human being would be, was bursting with excitement at their discovery. She turned to Frank and played her trump card. "But I'm a submissive wife, Frank, you know that. Say the word and we'll turn back."

Frank looked into his wife's playful eyes and, even in this environment, felt an urge to thoroughly kiss that smug smirk off her face. She knew full well that Frank would never turn back. "Remember, my hands are on your body at all times, as you promised," he warned. "Actually, that's a good rule for when we're above ground, too."

Nancy laughed, and the couple began slowly walking single-file, as there was no room for them to walk side by side. Some of the roof had begun sagging over the years, which was not a comforting sight, but they adjusted their course as necessary and kept walking.

"At least we're still breathing," Frank commented. "This air is stifling, but there must be some kind of ventilation somewhere."

"They must have thought of that when they built it. Hey, when we get out of here, we should calculate where we'd be above ground," Nancy mused. Fortunately, it was not too far before their passage reached its conclusion.

"Dead end," Nancy said in disappointment as they reached a bricked-up archway. They'd only walked a couple of minutes.

Frank's flashlight had already found what was needed. "Look at this, Nancy." His flashlight illuminated a small metal plate on the side of the archway.

"It wants another some kind of other crank, and then this brick wall moves out of the way," Nancy sighed. "More homework. But that's the fun part, too."

Frank didn't want to admit how glad he'd be that Nancy would be above ground sooner than he'd thought. "We'll come back later, now that we have a ballpark idea of what we're looking for," he said, masking his relief, and Nancy reluctantly pivoted herself to once again begin walking in front of Frank.

The walk back was even shorter than the walk there, although Frank had a brief moment of claustrophia when he considered that the trapdoor might somehow have closed behind them. Fortunately, though, faint light from the moon could be seen before long, and they carefully ascended the steps they'd recently gone down. It was now fully dark.

"Above ground again," Nancy said, and Frank felt better when he heard the slight tremor of relief in her voice as well. When they were safely out of the way, Nancy moved the statue back in place and the grass rose, hiding the secret passageway once more.

And, as if on cue, the grandfather clock chimed nine times.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Nancy and Frank thank each and every one of you for sticking with them through murders, mayhem, and secret passages. Y'all are amayzin'.

"It's like a herd of elephants," Frank commented. "These people wouldn't last five minutes working in our detective agency. We never have to guess where the murder took place."

Nancy and Frank followed the sound of excited chatter to the church, where they had to shoulder their way in to see the body in the center of the semicircle.

Ethel lay in an ungraceful heap in one of the pews. She had obviously been struck by a blunt object, as the side of her head was caked with "blood." By all appearances, Ethel had also hit the floor harder than was necessary, in her attempt to protect her drink. Her right arm was dramatically draped off the pew, her hand resting on the floor, her drink standing upright and unharmed a few inches away. Nancy had to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing as she saw the accompanying clue next to Ethel's body.

Several hot pink feathers, still somewhat damp from their dip in Nancy's afternoon tea.

Nancy felt many pairs of accusing eyes bore into in her face. "Sorry," she managed. "I've been framed!"

Fortunately, the room was distracted as her husband strode by her and walked purposefully up to Fifi, who was bent over consoling Colonel Henri in his wheelchair. Frank reached out and pinched Fifi brazenly on her right cheek.

Fifi screeched loud enough to wake up those family members that had been sleeping peacefully in the church's backyard for a couple of centuries. "Unhand me! You cad! How dare vous touch me!"

"Come on, baby, you know you want it," Frank said soothingly. "It's okay, we're all upset right now."

Unexpectedly, Nancy saw all heads turn once more in her direction.

 _These people want a show? Okay._

Nancy let out her breath in a guttural, savage growl, her heels clacking loudly in her blind rage to reach her husband. "Frank Spruce, you jerk!" she yelled. "There's a crowd of people gathered around a dead body in the Lord's house, and your priority is pinching ze French _derriere_!"

Raucous laughter erupted in the tiny chapel, and Nancy felt proud of herself for providing the biggest moment of levity so far in the evening. Frank's stunned look was only partly acted, Nancy was sure. "Uh, babe, you didn't see everything," Frank stammered. "She started it!"

"Well then I will _end_ it!" Nancy shouted. Suddenly inspired, she took off her feather boa and began whipping Frank's chest with it. "Jerk! Cheat! Loser! Two can play at this game, baby, and I've got someone on the side too!" She grabbed Frank by the ear and pulled him the few steps toward the door. "This is the last time you'll embarrass me!" she yelled in conclusion, opening the door and pushing him outside. She slammed the door behind them, yet the two could still easily hear the claps and cheers coming from inside.

Frank straightened up and turned to her, open-mouthed in shock. She grabbed his hand and began walking fast.

"Where are we going?" Frank asked, allowing himself to be led.

"Every person of significance on this island is in that chapel," Nancy said without looking at him, opening the door to the plantation house. "Including, most significantly, Colonel Henri Dijon."

"The attic," Frank remembered, following her light jog up the stairs and down the long hallway. "I'd almost forgotten."

Nancy was almost at a full run by the time she swerved into the Colonel's bedroom, pulling the key to the elevator out of the barrel of the tiny cannon on the fireplace mantel. She met Frank back at the elevator door. As the elevator was on this floor, Frank had the gate open for her by the time she returned. He entered after her and shut the gate, and Nancy unlocked the old-fashioned lever in the elevator. She pulled the lever toward Floor Three, and leaned back and groaned in impatience as the very old elevator shuddered into life and carefully took its time ascending, inch by inch.

Frank, however, had already thought of a way to put this waiting time to good use. With one hand, he pinned both her wrists above her head, while with the other he groped areas that he would not have been allowed to 366 days earlier. "Unfortunately for you, I rather enjoyed that little jealous scene in the church," he murmured in her ear, gently biting her lobe. "I wonder if I could incite you to a similar scene in real life?"

"Whatever you're plotting, plot carefully," Nancy replied, equally playful. She closed her eyes briefly, her body responding to his touch. "I can make your body feel good, and I can make it feel bad too."

No further words were exchanged in the elevator until it slowly ground its way to a halt on the third floor. Nancy burst from the elevator wild-eyed and immediately pulled out their flashlights, her state of excitement now focused on the dark new environment and clues. Frank emerged more slowly, and followed Nancy stiffly and just a bit sulkily.

"Look at this, Frank," Nancy mused, her flashlight sweeping around the third floor. "Hardly your average attic. That moonlight coming in from the huge windows sure helps a lot."

"A section with a tarp over it, obviously props for these weekends," Frank added, "and a chest in the corner. Hmm, I wonder what we're supposed to be looking at?"

"We'll start with these," Nancy said, gesturing to their right. A pile of newspapers, only somewhat used but dated "October 18, 1898" lay stacked on the floor.

Nancy sank onto the floor, realizing how long it had been since she sat down. Frank sat behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "The Times-Democrat," she began reading. "New Orleans, Louisiana. Colonel Henri Dijon came home today after suffering various injuries in the recent Spanish-American War. Colonel Dijon took several bullets to his pelvic and shoulder areas as he attempted to carry a seriously injured fellow officer to safety. Incredibly, though injured himself, Colonel Dijon managed to make it back behind American lines. He was duly decorated and discharged with honor by the U.S. Army. Louisiana welcomes home a true war hero!"

"Pretty impressive, taking multiple bullets to the pelvis yet still being able to get out of that wheelchair," Frank commented.

"I don't think the Colonel manufactured a newspaper about himself and put it in the attic, so this tells me that deep down, our Colonel really is a good-hearted, selfless man. Maybe he really did summon everyone out here just to have a family reunion." Nancy scanned the remainder of the stack, and assessed that this was the only relevant entry. She and Frank stood up.

"Now for that trunk," Frank said, moving toward the back of the attic. He unlatched it and opened it easily, shining his flashlight inside. "Old army clothes…paraphernalia…"

"Must be where the Colonel keeps his old army gear," Nancy surmised. "Or where someone _else_ keeps the Colonel's old gear. Here's a large officer's cape…a pair of leather gloves…- _oh!_ Oh, that surprised me!"

"A Colonel's hat, and a pair of old army boots," Frank finished the inventory. "Feeling a little sticky, my love? They're covered in chocolate sauce, er, excuse me, blood. The boots are also very muddy."

"So these murders are being committed in full regalia," Nancy said, looking for a place to wipe her hands. She was forced to settle on one of the rags that was protecting the oilcan in her purse. She carefully wiped off her hands on one of the clean corners, and thoughtfully began cracking her knuckles. "Okay, so we've had our third murder. Who's left?"

"Colonel Henri Dijon and Jeeves, first of all. I don't think they'd be the killers, since they're running this whole weekend."

"I agree. But they could be involved peripherally. All three of our staff are still alive, Fifi, Jeeves, and Celie. Our lawyer Clarence is still alive, and seems to be everywhere. And there's also you and me."

"We're both highly promiscuous bastards," Frank said thoughtfully. "Is one of us just trying to kill everyone off for extra money, to drown our own insecurities?"

"So straightforward," Nancy said. "If we want to make it complicated, maybe Clarence killed Gertie because of that land deed we found in her drawer, then Clarence killed Dr. Feels because of the racehorse scam, Ethel was smote down by the Lord for taking an alcoholic beverage into a church…what was she doing in the church, anyway? Praying for forgiveness?"

"Forgiveness for what? Crappy mothering? Lillian seems like she has her own problems, and an obsession with the Colonel."

"Which we don't know if he shares. Celie is the cook…but she could have poisoned people's food or something, made it less obvious." Nancy stood up carefully.

"But since she's handling the food, she'd also be making herself Number One Target. Why not just stab voodoo dolls in private?" Frank straightened and turned off their flashlights, putting them back in the bag.

"Well," Nancy said with a shrug, "maybe we're reading into all this too much. We're only as good as the scriptwriters."

Frank pulled her in for a kiss on the forehead. "Nevertheless, there's only a few hours left of this, so it's worth it if we use our skills for some fun, okay? Let's assume that geniuses wrote the script."

"All right—hey! Check it out! Found a door out of here."

"Can we unlock it?" Frank walked down the stairs, jimmied the knob, and discovered that yes, he could.

"It would be nice to come back up here if we needed to, but that also means that we'd be making it easier for the other players," Nancy said.

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Who knows how top-notch our competition is? The guy who played Dr. Feels has been sitting at the bar since he found out he's dead, as far as I can tell. Let's leave it unlocked for those that care, but we'll go back down in the elevator. We don't want anybody to see us emerging from that door on the second floor. If the Colonel is back in his room, we'll confront him this time."

"Sounds good to me," Nancy agreed. She waited for Frank to unlock the door and walk back up the steps so they could get back in the elevator together. And they soon had reason to regret taking this mode of transportation.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I felt the need for this small additional post since I think I made last chapter's cliffhanger sound like a bigger deal than it really is. See you in three days for chapter 11!

Due to the extreme slowness of the elevator, Frank and Nancy heard the argument before they saw it. "Why are you treating me this way, Uncle Henri?" they heard Lillian say angrily. "Don't you care how I feel? Don't I matter to you anymore?"

"Oh, no," Nancy whispered to Frank. "We're arriving in the middle of a scene!"

Sure enough, they felt every eye in the room on them as the elevator took its time crunching to a halt. Nancy gave a stupid little smile, and she and Frank desperately tried to blend in with the furniture. Their efforts were unsuccessful, however, although they still couldn't very well walk over to the doorway during a scene.

Colonel Dijon paused, looking oddly at the couple in the elevator. He looked at the clock, then cleared his throat. "You matter to me the same way everyone else does: no more, and no less."

"But I don't understand!" Lillian almost whined. "I thought I was special, and you cared for me more than any of the others! More than Frank, or Gertie, or any of the rest!"

"You're right— _you_ thought that," Henri Dijon said coldly. "You were wrong."

"What about when I came to visit you, after my father died?" Lillian pressed. " _You_ were like a father to me then! How can you be like this now?"

"I'm afraid you misunderstood a lot of things, Lillian," the Colonel continued. "I was just trying to help my sister out, that's all."

"I won't hear any more of this! You're lying to me! Someone is behind this, and I'll find out who!" Lillian burst into sobs and fled from the room.

The scene slowly disbursed. "Hard to reconcile that image with what we just read about the Colonel in the newspaper," Nancy said in a low voice to Frank. "This does seem out of character for him. Maybe she's right and he's hiding something for some reason, maybe even to protect her?"

"Could be, but she hasn't been the picture of mental health so far either," Frank reasoned. "Let's, uh…get out of this elevator…"

"What are you young reprobates doing in my elevator?" the Colonel snapped at them. "Do I go to your house and mess with your toys? Don't ever let me catch you in there again!" This speech had the combined effect of making Frank and Nancy decide not to confront him about the optional nature of his wheelchair, and also keeping back the characters who had been heading towards the elevator to investigate it.

"You have to wait till he's out of the room," Frank whispered to Fifi on their way out, giving her a clue in exchange for his pinch a half hour ago. "Hey, Nancy, do you see that? Under the bed?"

"I do now, since my better half noticed it. It looks like another one of Celie's voodoo dolls—"

"Stop snooping!" Colonel Henri barked at them. "Out of my room!"

Frank raised his hands surrender-style, and he and Nancy walked out the bedroom door. "Mr. Get-off-my-lawn," Frank muttered to Nancy. "Way to overcome stereotypes, Uncle."

Once in the hallway, however, they were stopped by Jeeves.

"There are a couple of guests who haven't made themselves available for questioning very much throughout the night," he said gruffly, with his characteristic scowl. "Do you have any guesses about who those may be?"

"Uhhh…" Frank said.

"Close guess. It would be much appreciated if you two could stay with the crowd until the clock chimes once more. Remember, character interaction is a big part of the game."

"But not a big part of the clues," Nancy said under her breath.

"At 10:00 you may resume your previous activities," Jeeves said, in a voice so low only she could hear it.

Nancy felt another shudder move up her spine. Did he mean anything by that? Did he know what they were doing, besides snooping in the attic? She and Frank forced themselves to follow instructions, however, and participated in the conversations going on around them. It seemed like only a few minutes before the clock struck ten.


	11. Chapter 11

At 10:00, the cast of characters seemed to move en masse, out the door and to an underground basement. How the crowd always knew where the murder was, Nancy would never understand.

"Such a private location," Frank said in a low tone to her. "This'll be good."

Nancy nodded, descending to the basement along with everyone else. The gasps seemed to echo up the staircase, as each person reached the bottom and gave their reaction. Fifi and Jeeves, dressed in conservative bedroom attire, were collapsed on the floor, their drinks on a nearby coffee table.

"Apparently this is where Jeeves the butler resides, and we probably should have been in here earlier looking for clues," Frank commented.

Nancy stepped to the side, her gaze in the opposite direction from everyone else's. "Frank," she said softly. "Look at that."

Frank turned to where she looking. A brick wall made up one half of this obviously converted and refurnished basement. And the type and pattern of the bricks looked familiar….

As everyone was now downstairs, no one noticed as Nancy ascended the stairs again. She looked across the plantation toward where the hedge bush had been. She turned around and looked directly opposite. Then she returned downstairs.

"So you're thinking this is the halfway point in the underground passage?" Frank said quietly upon her return. "You think the brick wall that gave us our dead-end is on the other side of this basement wall, made of the same material that this wall is?"

"Yes," Nancy said. "And that theory feels right, directionally speaking. But either way, we don't know where we'll end up." _Although I have a pretty good guess._

"As I was talking to the woman who used to play Gertie, she mentioned that there was a big discovery after we left the church," Frank told Nancy. "Somebody discovered the uneven floorboards, the Bible, the whole bit, and read it to the whole gathering."

"So now it's a race to the treasure," Nancy said. "It's past 10:00, so game on. We've got to get out while people are distracted." Her gaze swept critically over the murder scene, and over to the decanter of wine. Then she and Frank walked back into the open, Nancy purposefully leading the way.

"There was foam in the decanter," she reported. "They were poisoned. So the doctor's supplies are finally coming into the game. Let's take a body count. Celie is the only servant still alive, you are the only in-law still alive, both nieces are alive which means me and Lillian, Clarence as the lawyer, and the Colonel could be involved in this hanky-panky somehow himself."

"Hmm," Frank mumbled noncommittally. He thought he had a fairly good idea who the murderer was, but was hoping that Nancy hadn't figured it out yet and would still have a good time. There was also plenty of time for a twist ending.

Nancy continued her brisk walk. "But it's getting late, so we need to do something that we should have done a long time ago. The note from the Bible said that 'the bell will ring solemnly on our final night.' How would Sarah's parents know that, and why would that weird metaphor be included in their precious last note to their daughter?" She slowed down as they reached the bell tower. "It was another clue."

The bell tower was about two stories high and made of stone. A person could ring the bell either by walking through the archway and standing under the bell, pulling the rope, or climbing up a wooden ladder on the side that must have been added within the last couple of decades.

Frank winced after he'd scanned the structure with his flashlight. "Why do I always find myself forced into playing the role of the 'old fart?' I like searching for clues as much as anybody else, Nance, but this is a gorgeous historical structure. Do we really have to fool around with it?"

"You are not an old fart, you merely provide words of caution when they are needed, and you find yourself forced into that position because Joe would never have survived this long if you didn't find various ways to restrain his impulses. But please tell me you don't think of me like Joe because we really don't have time for all that therapy." Nancy kicked off her heels, which was exactly what Frank was dreading.

"Please don't, Nancy," Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's pitch black out here, and you're in a ball gown. Can't I go up just this once?"

"I'll be careful, I promise," Nancy said as she put her flashlight between her teeth. Frank stood at the bottom of the ladder and shined his flashlight in front of her as she took step by careful step, trying unsuccessfully to keep her dress somewhat bunched between her knees.

"I'm not incompetent, you know," Frank commented drily.

Nancy waited until she reached the top before taking her flashlight out of her mouth and responding. "That has nothing to do with this and you know it. I get excited, that's all. This bell has certainly seen better days."

"I'm shocked."

"All right, maybe you're an old fart after all. This bell is smallish compared to other bells, maybe a little bigger than my head. It's cracked and thoroughly rusted through."

"Any hiding spots?" Frank asked.

Nancy was silent as she searched. "Not from what I can see at this angle."

"Well, be very careful up there, and don't touch anything while I go under." Frank left his post and stood directly under the bell, craning his neck to peer straight up. He did a thorough search but could only see shadows. "No," he said slowly to himself. Then, louder: "Sorry, Nancy, I can't see much from this distance."

"You're going to kill me, Frank."

"You want the oilcan, don't you?"

"As a special anniversary present."

"I might peek up your dress on the way up." Frank left the bell tower and rummaged in Nancy's purse, then carefully ascended with one hand.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." Nancy took the oilcan and rag and balanced them carefully on the bell tower's scaffolding, then adjusted the angle of her flashlight. Frank descended the ladder to stand at the base in case she fell.

She oiled the bell carefully, then rubbed it with the rag, still searching at all angles for something that would help in the game. She tentatively gave it a small push—

The ruined hunk of metal abruptly broke from its holdings, falling twenty-five feet with a clang and hard thud.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked urgently.

"I'm still below you, I'm fine," Frank said. "Just come down carefully and receive your lecture."

"Okay, watch out." Nancy threw the oilcan and rag to the ground, then took a breath to steady herself. She stepped down more carefully this time, then walked into Frank's arms.

"I know, I know, you sprouted another gray hair with my name on it," Nancy said, giving him an extra squeeze. "And I disgraced a historical artifact, so who knows what kind of trouble that will cause. How about if I sign a contract agreeing to wear that little black thing that you like, redeemable at any time?"

Frank pretended to consider. "You drive a hard bargain, Nancy. But don't worry, you won't be wearing it for long." He kissed her hairline and pulled back. "But for now let's complete our business and get out of here in case anyone heard the bell drop."

Nancy cleaned the oilcan as best as she could and put it back in her bag. By the time she put on her heels and joined Frank at the bell, he'd assessed it from all angles.

"No secret compartments, pockets, anything," Frank said to her. "But I'm not seeing how this part up at the top has anything to do with the ringing of the bell. It looks to be an extraneous tool."

"You're talking about this…handle?" Nancy peered at it, puzzled.

"It's a crank, Nancy." His eyes twinkled.

"To unlock the underground passage," Nancy said with excitement. "It's all coming together."

"Yup. And you loosened it, but I need to pry it off."

"The crowbar in the carriage house. Be right back," Nancy said, walking away.

"You think you're walking off by yourself in the middle of the night on an island during a murder mayhem?" Frank growled at her.

"Just give me two minutes," she called back to him. "We can't leave the bell alone for someone else to find. I'll wear the Catwoman ears and tail, too."

Frank paced agitatedly until Nancy returned. He took the crowbar and easily pried the crank loose.

"Just a little more to wait, love," Frank said. He wiped off the crank and put it in Nancy's bag along with the crowbar, then helped Nancy stand and gestured toward the plantation house. "Get into character. It's our turn to shine."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Everlasting thanks to each of my followers for sticking with this story. There are a lot of good stories on this site that don't get reviews and I am blessed for having such support for a story that was pretty much handed to me on a silver platter from a PC game, The Colonel's Bequest.

To my guests without an account: Welcome back, J. I hope guest has been happy with the Olympic wins so far. Thanks for your commentary, Mak.

Thanks, Guest, for reading closely and looking for a thorough understanding of the characters. Lillian chose Frank's name randomly out of the family, as she was upset and couldn't think clearly, and Frank had randomly shown up in the elevator, thereby calling attention to himself. Frank was giving Fifi the maid a clue that if she wanted to go up the elevator herself, she would have to wait until the Colonel was out of the room.

Frank and Nancy rocked slowly on a porch swing. It was getting late, now past 10:30, and the night was punctuated by the comforting sounds of crickets, a bullfrog, an occasional lap of water against the shoreline. The air was hot but not sticky. A perfectly relaxing evening, contrasting with the content of their conversation.

"Do you love me, Nancy?" Frank asked suddenly.

Nancy's foot ceased its gentle rocking. The swing stood still. "Why ever would you ask me such a ridiculous question, dahling?"

Frank shrugged. "No reason. Well—well, I suppose I might have had a couple of interesting words with our scumbag family lawyer, Clarence, but that's it."

"Clarence! What did he say?" Nancy's eyes widened, and she sat up straight in the swing, turning to look directly at her husband.

Frank's features hardened. "I know everything, _wife_. Or should I begin calling you by what you truly are—"

"Oh, don't look at me like I'm the only one who's ever had an affair," Nancy snapped, turning from him.

"I have never had an affair," Frank said emphatically.

Nancy rolled her eyes and looked away from him. She had to keep her legs tightly crossed in order to hide a long, thin streak of oil on her dress.

"I enjoy the chase, and that is all," Frank insisted. "Once I know that a woman is in my clutches, the game is over for me. Some sweet talk, a few slaps and pinches, sitting a little too close, but I always come home to you. Turn to me, sweetheart."

Nancy turned to him, but now with a hint of vulnerability. "How can I believe you? I'm the laughingstock wherever we go—"

"I didn't realize it bothered you that much," Frank pressed. "I never expected you to do this, nothing like this. Can't we start over, babe? We can make this work, I swear we can."

Nancy sighed. "We can be married on paper, and now that everything's open between us, we'll just each—"

"No," Frank said firmly. "A real marriage. We can do this, we can get it back. But I'm telling you, babe, Clarence said he was going to fight for you, and he'd better not. Because I will fight back. Will you consider my offer, love?"

Nancy looked at him haughtily, but with an openness that wasn't there before. Frank took her hand and kissed it. They walked off the scene and joined the few characters that had been watching them from the sidelines: the former Gertie, Celie, Clarence, and of course Jeeves.

"Not too many people watching us anymore, huh?" Frank commented to Celie. "Where did everybody go all of a sudden?"

Celie shrugged. "Not sure. Did they go to bed? Or maybe the bar?"

"Even the bartender's not there anymore," Frank mused. "I looked in the window when I passed by. Hey, where's she going?"

All heads turned to see Lillian walking unsteadily, seemingly unaware of their presence. Frank and Nancy hurried to follow her, and a few characters joined them.

They walked past the hedge garden, the carriage house, the church. Nancy and Frank began to breathe easily once Lillian's path turned away from the bell tower.

"Oh, no." Frank grimaced. "Look where she's going."

"Come on, sweetie, it's an important clue," Nancy teased, pulling Frank the rest of the way forward. Lillian had walked into the dollhouse. Crouching down, Nancy opened the door and stayed on her knees, surveying this interesting situation.

"And they all lived happily ever after," Lillian read to the roomful of dolls. "What shall we read next, children? Don't we love storytime?"

There was one other thing that was different about this little house. Nancy's gaze moved across the room to the chalkboard. There were five tick marks in the middle of the chalkboard.

Nancy crouched back out of the dollhouse and took Frank to the side to make room for the others to enter. "You can't go in there," she said, grinning. "You'd have nightmares the rest of your life."

"Then just give me a brief, vague, general update, please. Let's go into our underground passage while we have a brief second." Frank began walking, and Nancy joined him at his side.

"Lillian is reading to her dolls, and there are five tick marks on the wall."

Frank nodded in resignation. "For Gertie, Dr. Feels, Ethel, Fifi, and Jeeves."

"Yeah," Nancy agreed. "I've been suspecting Lillian for an hour or two. Everybody has a financial motive, but she has an added emotional motive. She thinks she's protecting the Colonel—hey!"

Frank looked to where Nancy was pointing, and together they ran to a dark patch of grass in front of the porch where they'd just completed their scene. Celie lay in a heap, her rolling pin a few feet to her left.

Frank and Nancy looked down, then turned to each other in surprise.

"Lillian specifically said that Celie was special to her. She liked her, she confided in her," Nancy reflected.

"Also, Lillian was in her dollhouse when this murder took place," Frank said. "She's either been completely framed because she's nutso or we've got at least two murderers here."

The clock began to chime eleven times.


	13. Chapter 13

Frank scanned Celie's murder scene quickly for clues. "Let's get out of here. We don't have much time. I don't see anything else here, and I'm not liking the skyrocketing odds that one of us will be next."

"So my sweetie wants to find some buried treasure?" Nancy asked mischievously, taking his hand. "Lead the way."

Even in the dark, Frank and Nancy were able to find the private hedge garden with the garden nymph in record time, walking so fast that they were almost jogging. Nancy put the valve handle back in its square, they both turned it, and then Nancy got out of the way as Frank pushed the appropriate corner. The six-foot rectangle appeared in the ground as the grass moved down and to the side. The gaping blackness looked eerily similar to an open grave.

Nancy turned on their flashlights and handed one to Frank. "Same rules as last time, Nance," Frank said. "We'll be just as careful. Who knows what's changed or what's down there."

Nancy verbalized agreement as they lined up single file, then carefully descended the fifteen dirt steps. They scanned their surroundings. Once again it appeared to be a dirt tunnel, vast, empty, and some parts crumbling.

They looked at each other, then slowly walked forward. The very silence of the tunnel seemed to echo in their ears, surrounding them. A stone-sized piece of dirt broke free, falling to the ground and startling Nancy.

"It's different this time," Nancy said in a low voice. "We know we can get past that wall, so what's beyond? How tightly did they guard this buried treasure?"

"From their daughter? Hopefully not much," Frank said. "Here we are."

Nancy smeared oil on the small metal plate in the bricked-up archway. She oiled the crank from the bell tower as well. It took a few attempts before they could jam the crank into the hole in the metal plate.

"Let me try to turn it," Frank said to her. "If the handle breaks off from too much pressure, we're out of luck." He tentatively put a little pressure on it, then a little more, until suddenly it turned 180 degrees and flew out of the hole, thudding into the dirt. Nancy squeaked in surprise, as the brick wall had abruptly pivoted in the center, giving them just enough room to squeeze into the hallway beyond—and there was a dead rat directly in the passage in front of them.

"Oh, no," Nancy moaned, her eyes opened widely and filled with fear. "I can't do rats, I can't do rats. Yes I can! Oh…let's just hurry!"

"Are you sure?" Frank asked, turning her to face him. "This is our anniversary night. I don't care about this, I care about spending time with you."

"Let's…uh…" Nancy cracked her knuckles nervously. "How about the second we see a live rat, we turn around?"

"Are you sure?" Frank repeated.

"Yes," Nancy said firmly, more to herself than to him. "I am not going to get this far just to turn back. Let's just move a little faster, okay, so rats don't have time to crawl over my foot?"

"You got it," Frank agreed, and took the lead, making sure to hold Nancy's hand tightly behind him. Their pair of flashlight beams bounced around the passage as if they were conducting a light show. The passage began to veer toward the left, and ahead of them they could see a partially collapsed portion of the dirt ceiling.

"Enough of this," Frank said tensely. "We're turning back if this doesn't lead somewhere in thirty seconds."

"Fine," Nancy said, her teeth chattering slightly. She was glad that she could show vulnerability here, with her husband. She'd been in much worse situations with clients when she'd had to be the emotional rock.

They carefully sidestepped the mound of fallen dirt. Then heard a quiet but unmistakable squeak.

Nancy shrieked as Frank grabbed her hand to turn back the way they'd come. Nancy's flashlight bounced as she stumbled, and she pulled hard on Frank toward the opposite direction. "Stairs!" she gasped. "Stairs up!"

"Go, go!" Frank urged, and he followed her up a new set of dirt steps, staying in the rear to guard from rats. "What's up there?"

"It's a—it's some kind of a stone ceiling," she said with a trace of panic. "I can move it a little bit, but I need help."

Frank crouched two steps below her and put his hands on the ceiling. "One, two, three—"

The stone ceiling moved up, then crashed back down.

"To the left, Nancy!" Frank shouted. "One, two, three!"

The stone slab moved up and to the left with a clattering crunch, and provided Nancy with just enough room to squeeze up. Frank pushed the slab farther to the left, much easier from this new angle, and joined Nancy in the pitch darkness.

"Where are we?" he asked curtly, his self-preservation instincts on high alert.

"Exactly where I was afraid we'd be," Nancy responded. "Look at this."

Frank's eyes followed her flashlight beam. He saw a name engraved on a stone plate in the wall, then another just like it next to it…and swore softly.

"Looks like the family crypt," Nancy confirmed. "In back of the family chapel. We came out of a fake tomb with a fake stone covering."

Frank hugged her from behind. "I'm glad to hear how even your voice is. My wife is more afraid of rats than a tomb."

"Hey, we'd have no jobs if there were no dead bodies. Looks like there's not too many of them in here, either." Nancy moved around, shining her beam on the name plates on the wall. "Oh, how sad, here's Sarah's parents, Thomas Simon Crouton and Mary Francis Crouton." Nancy pivoted ninety degrees. "And on this wall we have William Thomas Crouton, the baby that died in infancy. And here's Sarah next to him. Either she's really in there, or her parents were preparing for her death because the war had gotten so bad."

"And the farther back we go, the more French the names get," Frank said with a note of suspicion. "Except…"

Nancy ran toward him. "Whatdju find, whatdju find?"

Frank shined his flashlight on a stone slab. "I don't recall the name Ruby Crouton being a common name either among the French or in the latter half of nineteenth century America."

"She wasn't on the genealogy list in the Bible," Nancy said emphatically. She turned to Frank and shined the flashlight on her own face to illuminate her ear-to-ear smile. "Ruby? Treasure? Another mystery solved!"

Frank laughed and took Nancy in his arms. He dipped her exaggeratedly for a kiss, and she kicked a heel up. They straightened, and he gave her one last twirl. "Yet we still find ourselves in a crypt with no treasure. Fortunately my wife routinely walks around with a crowbar in her back pocket."

"Hey, _you_ put it in my bag back at the bell tower," Nancy reminded him. "Not that we very well could have left it lying there. But please, honey, can I have the honors?"

Frank wedged it into the opening in the wall, then stepped to the side. "We'd better be right about this…"

"Either way we'll scream." Nancy jimmied the crowbar gently, then began yanking back and forth when she thought she had the leverage. The small metal door clicked as its locking mechanism gave way, and the metal door fell and hung down next to the wall.

Revealing a small, very old-looking cracked leather pouch.

Nancy threw up her arms and squealed, jumping up and down like a cheerleader whose team had scored the winning touchdown. Frank laughed, as her excitement was contagious, and swung her around. "I suppose your reticule has enough room for the family jewels?" Frank teased.

"Absolutely. Now let's go catch a serial killer." Nancy packed the pouch carefully in her bag. Then froze, remembering the rats.

Frank felt her shoulders stiffen. "We're leaving _now_ , love," he said firmly. "It would take special machinery to open this old mausoleum door. We have to go back through the underground passage, and we have to do it while we're still high from our accomplishments."

Nancy couldn't decide whether she wanted to go back into the tunnel first, or be the last to leave a crypt. Mentally berating herself, she forced herself to swing one leg, then the other back onto the top stair of the passage.

She stepped a couple of steps down quickly to make room for Frank, scanning her flashlight quickly to check for rats. She saw none. Frank dropped next to her, and they worked together to move the fake stone covering back over the opening to the tomb.

Nancy stiffened in fright as she heard a scampering to her right. Frank suddenly felt a wave of claustrophobia wash over him, and he put a firm hand on Nancy's shoulder, urging her forward. They walked down the stone steps and sidestepped the pile of caved-in dirt. He got in front of Nancy once more to scan for rats, and they walked as quickly as they could down the passageway.

"Only a few more minutes of walking before we're safely above ground," Frank said reassuringly to his wife.


	14. Chapter 14

Nancy forced herself to slow down before she twisted an ankle. She realized why she and Frank were in such a hurry to get out of this passage, and it wasn't just the rats. This was usually the time when the "bad guys" were on to them, and they still had two secret doors to pass through before they were home free. What if they had closed?

She heard Frank breathe a sigh of relief and knew that the brick wall was still open. They passed through it and once again picked up the pace. They saw a faint moonbeam up ahead.

"Oh, thank God," Nancy cried in relief, and stumbled after Frank up the last set of dirt steps. She sank onto her knees in the hedge garden, feeling ridiculous even as she kissed the grass. What was it about tonight? Why was it starting to feel so sinister? She'd been in much more dangerous situations than a family tomb and rodents in an underground tunnel.

"Yes, thank God that's over and that we're never going down there again," Frank agreed, bent over with his hands on his knees, attempting to breathe evenly once more.

" _Frank!_ " a very loud, angry voice shouted. The next time it was closer. " _Frank!_ Come out here and face me like a man!"

"Stay here," Frank said firmly to Nancy, exiting the hedge garden.

Nancy gathered her bag and ran after him. "No thanks, you didn't marry that kind of girl."

Frank swallowed his annoyance and alarm. He followed the direction of the voice, along the path toward the house, past Jeeves's basement apartment.

Nancy saw before he did. "Frank, to your right!" she yelled.

Frank saw Clarence just in time, ducking out of the way of his right hook. "What's your problem?" Frank yelled.

"Your _wife_ is the problem!" Clarence shot back. "My _lover_! You're bullying her away from me, but it won't work, bud, because she belongs with _me_!"

"You think she'll leave me for your sleazeball ass?" Frank shouted. The two men circled each other savagely in the huge domelight hanging above the front porch, the same area where Frank and Nancy had had their scene an hour before. Nancy hovered in the shadows, watching. There were no other characters gathered. The three of them were alone.

"She never should have been with you," Clarence sneered. "Nancy thinks you're an utter fool. She started seeing me six months after you two were married."

"Yeah, well, this utter fool bedded Nancy just this afternoon," Frank snarled.

Nancy's breath caught in her throat. Had Frank really just said that? Her face burned in embarrassment.

"Wherever her body happens to be, her heart is with me," Clarence said. He stopped circling and stood up straighter, prouder, more confident. "I am a successful lawyer. I know people, I know places. I know what women want and how to make them feel happy and needed. You are nothing."

Frank had stopped moving when Clarence had. Clarence stood three inches taller than Frank, especially with Frank's shoulders somewhat slumped as they were. Nancy noticed with puzzlement that Frank looked…lost.

"Explain to me what you have that Nancy would ever possibly want or need. She's smart, gorgeous, and successful without you." Clarence cupped a hand behind an ear. "Hmm? Nothing? Can't think of even one thing? So you agree that you only drag her down?"

Suddenly Frank let out a savage yell and lunged for Clarence. Clarence dodged to the side just in time and ran into the hedges.

" _Frank!"_ Nancy screamed, arriving at his side just in time to stop him from giving chase. "You're scaring me! What's going on?"

Frank was still staring toward the direction Clarence had run in. Slowly he turned to look toward Nancy. Nancy's mouth dropped open in astonishment as she recognized the emotions in Frank's features.

Suspicion. Wariness. Hurt.

Nancy's astonishment immediately turned into rage. Red dots prickled the edges of her vision.

"Frank Hardy, you _idiot_!" she screamed. "This is a _game_! I did not cheat on you _in real life!_ This is a game, a game, a game! Did you seriously just get caught up in a silly little scene? I swear I've never been so pissed at you in my entire life!"

Frank's features switched to guilt, with a generous dose of embarrassment. He thrust his hands into his pockets and began to pace. He moved toward the shadows.

"We are going to stand here, and we are going to argue about this," Nancy said in a low, dangerous voice. "This stops here. Your insecurities are not going to affect our marriage any longer. Explain to me how ninety-five percent of the time we're in sync, finishing each other's sentences, following up on each other's clues, and the other five percent of the time you're afraid that I think of you as a ball and chain, I think we're married in name only, and I'm going to cheat on you and leave you for scumbags? I know many women would be flattered by this behavior, Frank, but not me. I got married because I wanted a _partner_ in life, not a sidekick."

Frank sighed. "I'm sorry, Nancy, I'm sorry. It's late, it's been quite a long day, and we're in a very creepy environment in the middle of a bayou, and we're supposed to be acting anyway. Just give a minute to recover, give me just one minute."

"Explain to me how a man can be so smart and confident, be a partner in a successful detective agency, and interrogate suspects for hours until they confess, yet have such insecurities about the woman who pledged her life to him?" Nancy had a wild look to her, especially silhouetted against the massive porch light, her hair mussed and her dress crinkled. "You realize what you're saying about me personally, right, Frank? You think I'm a shallow cheat? I thought this crap would end once we walked down the aisle."

Frank had recovered enough to speak in a normal volume, evenly, tightly. "I don't think that about you, and there are quite a few successful, self-confident men who have a soft spot when it comes to certain women. It's called love."

Nancy heard the hard edge to her husband's voice that always signaled that he'd reached his limit, but she had not yet reached hers. "It's called insecurities, and I think you need to consider some kind of therapy. Geez, Frank, the only reason I would ever cheat on you is if you drove me absolute batty with this kind of stuff."

"Do not say such things to me, Nancy," Frank warned sharply, taking a step towards her. "This argument stops now, before either of us says anything more that we will regret. I am certainly not the only person in this marriage with insecurities."

"Well, how can I not accept that bait?" Nancy snapped. "Explain to me what my insecurities are, Frank."

Frank sighed. "You want children, Nancy. You want them desperately. You're _afraid_ of having children. You're afraid of bringing them into a world such as this, and, most of all, afraid of having them grow up without both parents. Like you did."

Nancy dug both hands into her hair, reeling back as if he'd physically hit her. "You knew I didn't want children when you married me, you knew that!"

"And you also knew that I did want children." Frank kept his arms by his sides but rotated his open arms forward, a supplicating gesture. "I've seen how you are with Joe's kids, how you are with your Sunday School kids, how you had only childcare jobs until you had the credentials to do detective work full time."

"Stop it," Nancy moaned. Her knees felt weak.

Frank shook his head. "No, we discussed my mental barriers at length, and now we will discuss yours. What I can't understand is how you must somehow think your life isn't worth the pain that you had to experience. Do you think either of your parents regrets having you? Do you think our children's lives aren't worth living if they have to grow up without you, or me, or even both of us?"

" _Stop it!"_ Nancy screeched, stumbling away from him. "I'm sorry!"

Frank followed her, lifting his arms to her. "No, love. We're going to finish this, although I wish you would come into my arms for it rather than run away from me."

"It's our anniversary," Nancy said weakly.

Frank sighed and lowered his arms. "Nancy, once I'm convinced that you don't want kids, I will begin to accept it. Until then, I can't help but think that you are dooming yourself to unhappiness because you can't bear the thought of taking risk, and especially that you don't want to that risk with _me_."

Tears blurred Nancy's vision. She put a hand over her mouth, turning from him. She fled into the hedges, running around several corners so Frank couldn't find her. She saw a sturdy tree in front of her and ran toward it. Leaning against it, she allowed the silent sobs to shake her body. She couldn't think, she couldn't think. It was too painful. Too _risky_. No, no, she would always associate that word with the terrible words that had just come out of her husband's mouth.

She took several deep breaths. "Keep it together, Drew," she muttered. "You're a detective. Focus. This problem is not going to be solved right now. Wait—" She stood up straight, digging in her purse for her flashlight. "Where am I?" Nancy walked back the way she'd come, or the way she thought she'd come, willing her heart to cease its hammering. "Oh, thank God," she breathed, recognizing a pattern of bushes. This was right around the corner from the private garden with the water nymph. She suddenly gasped, remembering.

She and Frank had never closed the door to the secret passageway!

Nancy ran around the corner and into the private hedge garden. Then recoiled, screaming involuntarily.

Illuminated by the huge moon, Clarence's body lay spread-eagled not two steps in front of her, a knife in his heart. Lillian's body was less than ten feet away from his, a gun lying next to her. Nancy frowned, approaching Lillian with her flashlight. Lillian had been killed by a point-blank gun shot wound to the heart. So why was the gun next to Lillian, not Clarence?

And Lillian was dressed in an officer's cape, leather gloves, a colonel's hat, and a pair of old muddy army boots.

The clock began to strike midnight. Nancy's anniversary was over.

And, immediately afterward, Nancy's blood froze as she heard a sound she had never heard to this intensity before.

It was her husband's blood-curdling scream.


	15. Chapter 15

The garden was suddenly oppressive. Nancy couldn't breathe. Her forehead broke out in sweat. She dragged herself out of the garden and through the maze of hedges. She wanted open space so badly that time seemed to move in slow motion, and she felt as if she were swimming upstream in the Louisiana humidity.

She broke free from the hedges, stumbling toward the plantation house. Frank's yell pierced the air once more. It seemed to be coming from above her. Nancy looked up, attempting to locate the source.

The attic window was open.

Nancy forced herself to suppress her emotions. She rushed towards the nearest door, entering the weapons room. It felt like ages since she and Frank had inspected this room. Frank, her husband, the man that she never should have run away from just because he spoke the truth.

Nancy stopped in her tracks. The gun case that she and Frank had seen earlier was open. The gun was missing.

Pulse quickening, Nancy ran down the hall, tripping on the carpet as she rounded the corner. She hurried up the stairs, ignoring the pain in her right knee. Her breathing increased, and her hairline was slick with sweat. _It's just a game_ , she forced herself to think. _Everyone is playing along. They did a very good job at setting this scene, and it's just a game._

Nancy suddenly realized what had been bothering her for the last fifteen minutes. There had been no witnesses at the scene between Frank and Clarence. The three of them had been alone. Where was everyone?

Nancy felt so disconcerted that the seconds seemed to slow down further, and she wanted to scream at the amount of time it took her to ascend the grand staircase. She was now on the second floor. Again she heard Frank's wild cry, and now she could hear scuffling as well.

The door to the attic was open, the door that she'd unlocked on impulse a few hours ago during her trip to the attic. A final set of stairs lay in front of her. The scuffling sounds were coming from up there. Nancy forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. She could now clearly hear her husband's grunts and shouts of exertion, wrestling with an unknown silent assailant.

Her left heel slipped four stairs from the top and she fell again, ripping a hole in her gown. Cursing, Nancy kicked her heels off, frantically running up the remaining few stairs and emerging in the attic, pausing in stunned silence at the scene before her.

Frank struggled in mortal combat with Colonel Henri Dijon, who was an old man no longer, his gray-haired wig lying on the floor nearby. A hypodermic needle was between them, and the two men grappled valiantly to gain control over it.

The only light in the room came from the huge glass attic windows, the impossibly large moon illuminating fifteen feet into the attic. At the very edge of the light, Nancy noticed something on a side table. She approached for a better look, and saw the gun that had previously been locked in the glass case in the Colonel's study.

Shakily, Nancy stepped into the moonlight so she could take the gun off the table. She raised it and pointed it at the two men, who both noticed her at the same time.

"Shoot him, Nancy!" Frank yelled. "You came just in time!"

"No, shoot him!" the Colonel cried. "Trust me!"

"You won't believe what's been going on here tonight!" Frank shouted. The Colonel almost gained the upper hand, but Frank deflected just in time. "Shoot him, I'll explain everything!"

"Step away from him, Frank," Nancy said shakily.

"I'm trying to, I can't!" Frank said. "I'm tired, I can't fight for much longer! Come on, Nancy, I'm your _husband!"_

The gun shook in Nancy's hands as she trained it on the two men. Despite taking some basic weapons training required for detective work, she had never shot someone before. She also knew that she hadn't had enough practice. "Distance yourself from him, Frank," she almost pleaded.

"I can't," Frank said wearily, his movements beginning to slow down. "He's….unbelievably strong…"

Suddenly the hypodermic needle fell onto the floor, and the two men immediately lunged for it. Nancy couldn't see who had taken possession of it, and she knew she had to act now.

She shot. Both men froze in their positions on the floor.

Holding her breath, her eyes impossibly wide, Nancy dropped the gun, letting it clatter onto the floor. She almost stumbled, her knees weakening, barely able to hold herself up as she approached the men.

Frank exhaled quietly. His body rolled over and he stared blankly at the ceiling, the fight leaving him. An ugly red stain saturated the front of his white suit shirt, a stain that was rapidly spreading.


	16. Chapter 16

Colonel Dijon stood up, unharmed. He grinned at Nancy. "Good choice," he said. "Unless you're just a terrible shot."

" _No!_ " Nancy screamed, running to her husband. She dropped to her knees beside him. "Frank! Talk to me! Speak to me! Tell me you're all right!"

Frank lay motionless, his eyes closed.

"I'm serious, please, please!" Nancy cried, grabbing Frank's arms and shaking him. "Break character, break character!" Her voice caught, and her eyes swam with tears. She suddenly sobbed.

At the sound of Nancy's sob, Frank opened one eye. He put his hand over hers. "It's all right, love. It'll take a lot more than a paintball gun to take me down."

Nancy sagged in relief, hugging Frank on the floor, as the room erupted in clapping and cheers. Figures emerged from the dark corners of the attic, chattering excitedly. Lillian and Clarence walked up the stairs and joined them. The game was over.

"I knew it, I knew it right from the beginning," Gertie began eagerly.

"We all chose to stay up here for the final scenes, right above the front porch," Dr. Feels explained. "We could hear everything, and we figured it would add to the ambiance to make you all feel more alone."

"Well, _that_ certainly worked," Nancy replied shakily, but she was glad that she was able to begin laughing about it. She did not relax her hold on Frank, however.

Jeeves immediately hushed all conversation. "Most of you have submitted your final guesses to me," he said. "We know that Colonel Dijon and Nancy were the only characters to survive, but that means nothing. Nancy might have also shot the wrong person. Does anyone need any more time to write down your guesses regarding the truth about tonight's events?"

The nine visitors gathered in the room looked at each other and shrugged. "No, we're good," Clarence said. "It's after midnight, man, let's hear the answer and go to bed. This has been grand fun."

"Wait," Nancy said. Frank stood up, then helped Nancy to her feet. The two were hopelessly covered in red paint. Nancy's dress was also ripped and covered with oil and grass stains. "My husband and I can't use the prize, so we have no need to submit a written guess. Therefore, can I try to explain the solution to the group instead of the gamemasters?"

Jeeves raised his eyebrows, silently asking the room for permission. Everyone shrugged, and nodded. Frank grinned at Nancy, crossing his arms. He loved to see his wife in her element.

Nancy turned to Lillian. "The motivation for the majority of the murders tonight had nothing to do with Henri Dijon's will. The motivation was jealousy, combined with mental imbalance. When you found out that your precious Uncle Henri did not think of you as special, you systematically began killing everyone who might have come between you and him. In fact, you went so far as to dress in your uncle's army clothes that were stored in this attic, trying to become him, to somehow feel like _he_ was actually the person killing for _you_."

Jeeves nodded. "Right so far."

Nancy put her arm around Frank. "But my no-good husband is smarter than he appears. He realized what was going on over an hour ago. He asked himself how he could take advantage of this situation, and knew that Lillian would not kill her friend, Celie the cook. So he killed Celie mostly so he wouldn't have to share any inheritance with her, but also to incense Lillian to continue her bloodbath. Frank then followed Lillian until she killed again, which happened to be Clarence, and then he shot Lillian as she was distracted. Then he decided to finish off the Colonel and inherit immediately, planning on blaming the Colonel's and Celie's deaths on Lillian as well. She hadn't covered her tracks very well, and the authorities could easily believe his story."

Nancy began to pace, cracking her knuckles. "However, Frank hadn't realized that the Colonel is spryer than he leads others to believe. The Colonel intended to live quite a few more years, and part of his intention for inviting everyone here was to spy on them…see who was worthy of his inheritance…perhaps change his will based on what he saw here this weekend. Of course the Colonel had no idea what his weekend gathering would turn into."

Nancy turned once more to Frank. "I survived because, despite my many flaws, my husband truly did love me, and wanted to share the inheritance to rekindle the flame in our marriage. To…learn to overcome our insecurities."

Frank met Nancy's gaze silently.

"And so, the major ethical dilemma of the night is, will the wife do what's right and shoot her husband? Or will she choose money and her man?" Nancy shrugged.

Jeeves and Henri looked at each other and grinned. "Actually, on some weekends, the wife shoots both her husband and the Colonel and takes the entire inheritance for herself," Jeeves said. "And Clarence's murder can go either way. Either Lillian or Frank could have killed him, out of two very different forms of jealousy. But, by Jove, looks like she's solved it. A round of applause for our girl detective!" Jeeves said, and the room of characters began to clap.

Ethel, who'd spent all night with a drink in her hand pretending to be drunk, no longer needed to pretend. "Hey, did anybody ever find the treasure?" she slurred.

Nancy couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten about the treasure. "Ah, yes, the treasure. Why would an old miser like Henri Dijon invite his good-for-nothing family out here in the middle of nowhere to tell them about his will when he knew he wasn't even dying yet?" Nancy asked. "He would know that his family was worthless. I believe that he was also testing them, giving them one last chance to redeem themselves…an old man, on a ruined plantation, nearing the end of his life and finally coming to terms with how lonely he was. Who knows if he even really had any money? He certainly didn't seem able to see to the upkeep of this plantation. And so, it turns out, the only person who passes the test and proves her loyalty to Henri is…"

Nancy turned and walked toward the cook. "Celie. She is the only person who truly understood Henri for who he is and what he needed. So much, in fact, that she cast good-luck charms around the plantation to try to help him, also proving her dedication to the plantation by doggedly searching for the rumored lost treasure that Sarah Crouton was supposed to receive from her parents. The character of Celie used some items from the maintenance shed, a family Bible, a crank from the bell tower, Sir Lancelot, and a valve handle to discover an underground tunnel beneath this plantation house, ultimately finding a leather pouch of the family's treasures in the vault of the Crouton crypt."

Jeeves was standing completely still. He exchanged a quick look with Henri Dijon. Henri was the first to recover. "So you followed through on the buried treasure storyline, did you?" he asked cheerfully. "Did anyone else?"

Dr. Wilbur Feels shook his head. "After we all found the family Bible, Celie told us the story of Sarah Crouton, but it didn't lead to anything. So you found some fake treasure, Nancy? I love these murder mystery weekends!"

Nancy ran to her bag and pulled out the pouch, showing it to the room. "And so," Nancy said, feeling a dramatic flair, "Celie recovered the buried treasure, handed it to Henri before she died, and he was able to use it to restore the plantation to its original glory. And, sadly, the Colonel realized his love for Celie just a little too late. But at least a lonely old man finally discovered after the fact what it was like to be loved purely, selflessly, wholly."

"Wonderful, Nancy, and extra credit!" cried Henri, who started another round of applause. He walked over to Nancy and put the leather pouch back in her bag. "This will be an excellent souvenir for you to remember your superb sleuthing this weekend."

"Allow me to bring some towels for you and your husband to clean up. I am the butler, after all," Jeeves said to Nancy. He winked and walked down the stairs.

"And now," the Colonel continued, "If everyone will look to the back of the attic as we turn the lights on, our bartender has brought complimentary champagne to celebrate the end of our evening. We hope you all have thoroughly enjoyed yourselves, and will come again in the fall when we change the storyline. Since Frank and Nancy withdrew themselves from the prize, our fifty percent off prize coupon will go to Clarence, whose guess came closest to the solution." Henri began to help the bartender pass out the champagne, and the party began to disburse. Frank shook Clarence's hand in congratulation, which was the first civil gesture the two strangers had given to each other all night.

Frank gave Nancy a quick hug and a look of admiration. "My genius missus," he murmured in her ear. "Nancy, what a rotten time for us to exchange words. I'm so sorry."

"You're telling me," Nancy sighed. "I'm sorry too. But I'm glad that everything's out in the open, Frank."

"And I can't believe what I said to Clarence about what we did this afternoon," Frank said remorsefully, passing a hand across his face.

"It's fine," Nancy said, giving a small smile. "But, yes, you will be using the Sherlock hat and pipe while I'm in the Catwoman suit."

"Let's say good night to these people," Frank decided, putting an arm around Nancy's shoulders. "I'm tired, and I just want to lie in bed and hold you."

"Sounds good to me," Nancy agreed. They circled the room, thanking everyone for a great game.

On their way to the staircase, Jeeves abruptly appeared in the doorway, empty-handed. "I'm so sorry, but you have a personal phone call in the office," he said to Frank in a low voice, and a couple of people overheard. "It appears your mother is in the hospital. You need to come take this call."

Frank froze in disbelief and fear. "Yes, of course," he said, and dashed out of the room before any condolences began. Nancy grabbed her bag and followed him, holding up her dress and picking up her shoes as she rushed back down the stairs, following Frank into Colonel Dijon's bedroom. "Where is it, where's the phone?" Frank asked frantically, looking around the room.

Jeeves entered the room last, reaching behind him and locking the door.


	17. Chapter 17

"Why did you just lock the door?" Frank asked, suddenly on alert. "What's going on here?"

"Frank," Fenton Hardy's voice came loud and clear over the speakerphone. "I'm here, I'm on the phone." Frank and Nancy rushed toward the business phone that was on a bedside nightstand in a back corner.

"Dad, what's going on?" Frank asked urgently.

"Your mother…she's okay, getting stabilized, but…she's had a heart attack. She's in the hospital, here in the city."

"Oh, no," Frank breathed. Nancy put an arm around his shoulders.

"It might be mild, we don't know, and she might make a full recovery. But it's significant enough that I really think you two should come to the hospital now. Better safe than sorry."

"Of course," Nancy interjected. She glanced at Jeeves. "But…we're on an island…"

"I will take you back myself in the motorboat," Jeeves said immediately. "Your father and I already worked it out. We'll meet you at the shore in a half hour, sir."

"Oh—uh, yes, I'll try my best to be there as soon as humanly possible. It's going to take me longer than a half hour, though, maybe more like forty-five minutes."

"Of course, sir, as soon as possible, then," Jeeves said smoothly, exactly as a butler would. "We'll keep in contact."

"Love you, Dad, see you soon," Frank said, and disconnected.

Jeeves unlocked the door, followed them to their rooms, and watched as they haphazardly packed their overnight belongings in under sixty seconds. Despite their protests, Jeeves insisted on carrying their belongings for them, which were two backpacks, Nancy's reticule, and a long double pillow that they'd gotten used to sharing. They followed him out to the fence by the bayou, where Jeeves opened a gate in the fence and led them to a distant dock. Nancy and Frank sat in the front of the motorboat, while Jeeves turned on the motor, pushed off the dock, and steered from the back. Nancy and Frank could still have relative privacy since Jeeves was sitting right next to the motor and wouldn't be able to hear their low voices.

The large moon on the bayou would have made the boat ride stunningly beautiful under other circumstances. Nancy put her arms around Frank and leaned her head on his shoulder. It was several minutes before she attempted to interrupt his silence. "I'm so sorry, darling," she said sincerely. "I don't know how this happened. Your mom only just turned sixty, and she was so healthy."

Frank noticed the word "was," but did not comment on it. He stared into the water, still reeling from the news.

"There are plenty of heart attacks that are just warnings, Frank," Nancy said encouragingly. "Maybe your mom will be told to eat no more red meat, or get on a different exercise regimen. We don't know right now, so don't assume the worst. And, no matter what happens…we'll get through it together. Right?"

Frank suddenly seemed to awaken from his stupor. He looked sharply at Nancy. "What did you just say? That last line?"

Nancy paused. "We'll get through it together?"

Frank studied her. "I said that same line to you a few months ago. Do you remember? And now you're saying it to me."

Nancy nodded. "Yes. You said it to me on my thirty-second birthday in April. I was having…a variety of worries….about getting older, and limited time for life choices, and such, and you fully convinced me that we could get through _anything_ together. That was truly the day that I was convinced that we are a team, even more than our wedding day."

Frank tipped her chin so that her face was very close to his, her eyes looking directly into his. "You know when I was fully convinced?"

Nancy frowned. "What? You've always said that you knew when we first met, fourteen years ago."

"No, that was only when I knew that I would love you until the day I died. I was fully convinced that you love me just as much as I love you…less than a half hour ago."

Nancy's jaw dropped.

Frank rubbed his thumbs over his wife's knuckles. "Tell me what happened in that attic, Nancy. You can't have truly thought that I would be wounded by a paintball gun, not at that distance."

Nancy blushed, although also found that her pulse was increasing just from the anxiety of the memory. "Well…you have to understand that it was after midnight on an old plantation, and I had been by myself on a bayou, after having been underground in a creepy passage…psychologically, I was primed for a scare, even though I'm a professional. Even though I had just yelled at you for getting caught up in a scene." She looked away, embarrassed, but Frank tipped her chin toward him again.

Meeting his gaze, Nancy continued, "And when I heard my husband struggling with someone upstairs…and I enter the room and I had to _see_ it…well, when I saw the paintball gun from downstairs my head knew that this was all part of the game, but my heart didn't. I froze, got cold feet. Frank, I fully knew that your character was the one I was supposed to shoot, but I just couldn't do it. I didn't care about the mystery. My pride wouldn't let me confess to the others in the attic that I truly had shot you by accident, had let you down right when you needed me." Nancy's hands shook in Frank's. "It's my greatest fear, that some stupid mistake would cost me a husband, and one day, possibly…cost our child his or her father, and it played out right in front of me."

Frank let out a breath, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment, then took Nancy in his arms. "My love," he said in a low voice. "Even if that scenario ever plays out, you must know that I would forgive you even before the accident happened. And that our child would still have a beautiful life despite that pain. There would be nothing to forgive, in fact. The only way you could let me down is if you left me."

"Never," Nancy said simply.

"I know that now." Frank forced himself to draw back, so he and Nancy could once again make eye contact. "When I was lying in that attic with my eyes closed, hearing your screams, your sobs, and opened my eyes and saw nothing but love and fear in yours….I was finally convinced. It doesn't seem possible and it makes no sense, but for some reason you love me just as much as I love you, and, yes…we can and will get through _anything_ together." Frank took a deep breath. "Starting with this situation about my mom."

"Yes," Nancy concurred. "With me right by your side. A partnership of equals."

Frank looked tenderly into Nancy's eyes as the boat slowed down and prepared to dock. "These have been the best 366 days of my life, Nancy."

"Mine, too," Nancy whispered, gripping Frank's hand as Jeeves hastily docked the boat.

Frank and Nancy got out of the boat, scanning their surroundings. Frank sighed. "My dad is nowhere in sight. Isn't the hospital somewhere right around here?" Frank asked Nancy with a frown. "Why did my dad say he'd be so late? Oh no, are they operating on her, is it worse than he's telling us?"

Nancy used this opportunity to voice some nagging concerns. "Something's not right," she whispered, as Jeeves hastily put all of their belongings on the curb in one ungraceful trip. "Why did your dad call the office phone instead of trying our cell phones first? I checked our phones and there's no record of him calling. How did Jeeves happen to be in the office to receive the call at that exact moment, when he was supposed to be downstairs getting towels for us?"

Jeeves came toward them. "There's no reason to wait here, not when I've got a work vehicle right over there in this parking lot. I can drive you two to the hospital." Jeeves gathered their belongings from the curb and began walking toward the vehicle.

Frank and Nancy exchanged questioning looks, and they hung back briefly. "He's sure impatient. I agree that some things have been strange," he agreed in a low voice. "But I keep returning to the fact that we talked to my dad directly. He didn't use any of the code phrases that he and I agreed to use in case one of us was secretly in trouble. And I would really like to get to the hospital and see my mom."

Nancy put a hand on Frank's elbow before he began walking. "Do you think the treasure is authentic?" she whispered. "Did you see the way Jeeves and the Colonel were looking at each other when I brought out the bag?"

Frank turned toward Jeeves and pointed an index finger straight up, gesturing that he and Nancy needed one more minute. "That did occur to me, and I was surprised that you showed the pouch to the group," he said in a low voice. "But why this charade? Why would they put the pouch back in your bag, why not take it and say it was a prop, why didn't one of them keep the group talking while the other one left the room and got on the boat with it? And why call my father, how in the world would he be involved?"

Nancy opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn't have any answers and she still didn't have a good feeling about this, but she also didn't want to be the one keeping Frank away from his mom tonight.

"We're both on high alert, and we know how to escape from a moving car if we need to, even a locked one," Frank said quietly. He took Nancy's hand.

Nancy nodded slowly in hesitating assent. She followed Frank toward Jeeves's Honda, and they both got into the backseat. Jeeves locked the doors and peeled away from the curb, ignoring the first stop sign.


	18. Chapter 18

"I put all your belongings in the backseat between you," Jeeves said, glancing into the rearview mirror. "In case you need anything."

Frank and Nancy remained silent for a moment. He sat on the left and she sat on the right. They exchanged a look, sharing the same thought. Jeeves was going out of his way to appear less suspicious, but was having the opposite effect. At a time like this, why would they care if their belongings were next to them or in the trunk? "Thank you," Nancy finally said.

Jeeves made a left turn, entering a dimly-lit area of town, heading away from the tourist district.

"Idiot!" Frank said suddenly, sitting up straight. Nancy froze, looking at him expectantly. Frank reached into his overnight bag, pulling out his smartphone. He pressed a button and put the phone to his ear.

Nancy noticed how Frank relaxed slightly at the sound of the familiar voice on the other side, his shoulders lowering. "Joe," he said in relief. He leaned forward and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. "Comfort me, man. You're the only one who understands exactly how I feel right now."

Nancy heard a sigh, a creak of bedsprings as Joe sat up in bed. Nancy leaned in, Frank adjusting the phone so that they each had an ear on either side of it. "Sure I will, once you stop speaking in riddles at 12:45 at night. What's going on?" Joe asked irritably, stifling a yawn. "You had me thinking this was an emergency, bro."

Frank and Nancy looked sharply at one another. "You mean…Dad didn't call you?" Frank asked slowly.

"No. Come on, tell me what's going on."

Frank was silent. "I'll let you know once I do."

"Frank, if you—"

Frank hung up in the middle of Joe's threat. Jeeves took a right turn into a darker part of town and accelerated.

Frank showed Nancy his phone screen, pressing "send" to call his father.

It rang, then went to voicemail.

Nancy took the phone from him and opened the directions app. "Slow down, please," she said to Jeeves, who just barely eased his foot off the gas.

Nancy typed in the name of the local hospital and waited for the directions to load. She and Frank watched together as it showed their dot moving in the opposite direction, away from their destination.

Jeeves glanced in the rearview mirror at them. He searched their surroundings for police, then ran a red light.

Frank took the phone from her and quickly wrote a text without sending it. He showed her the screen.

 _he's not stopping but hes doing 30-35 mph, when I squeeze your hand twice thats the signal to tuck and roll either side out of this car. ill take your overnight bag, leave all else._

Nancy stared at the screen. Her vision blurred from stress and incredulity. She couldn't believe it had come to this. She took the phone back, wrote a text, and showed it to him.

 _I am not doing that._

Frank looked back and forth from the screen to her. Nancy recognized surprise, hurt, and frustration on his face. She added to her text:

 _he's got to stop sometime. next stop sign we open our doors and run for it. you come to my side and we run my way, away from driver. i dont see a gun. ill wait for your two squeeze_

Frank read the text and then looked up at her face, long and searchingly into her eyes. Nancy knew he saw a poker face, a screen that didn't answer his question of why she was insisting on a more dangerous plan. They would be closer to wherever Jeeves was taking them, and they would lose those few precious seconds when Jeeves would have had to slam on the brakes before giving chase.

Nancy put Frank's phone in her overnight bag and took out some toiletries and clothes, making it as light as possible for him. She held out her hand. "Trust me," she mouthed. Frank took her hand and nodded slightly.

Jeeves heard sounds, but couldn't make out the words. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "We're almost there," he said. "Would you like me to get your father on the phone again? To walk you in?"

"Yes, please," Frank said assertively. "And please slow down to the speed limit and follow traffic laws. I don't want to get held up by the police."

Jeeves nodded, swallowing his annoyance, and slowed down further. He got out his phone. "What's the number?"

Frank gave the area code. Jeeves's attention alternated between the road and typing on his phone.

Nancy shook Frank's hand suddenly and nodded her head towards their left. A small group of people huddled together on the sidewalk of their darkened street. Potential witnesses or helpers.

Frank gestured toward the right. A stop sign was coming up.

Driving with one hand, Jeeves stopped dialing to slow the car down, leaning forward to see beyond the corner buildings for cars or police.

Frank squeezed Nancy's hand twice.

Nancy and Frank opened their doors simultaneously, swinging both feet out tightly together. They stood up and lunged forward, trying to brace themselves and direct the momentum as sideways as possible. Nancy's stride was smaller than Frank's, however, and her shoulder clipped the edge of her open car door. She gasped and clutched her shoulder in pain, trying to walk away and orient her steps. She tripped and almost fell.

Frank joined her a nanosecond later, helping her balance. He grasped her hand tightly and pulled her urgently toward the shadows.

Jeeves had exited the car, and Nancy was vaguely surprised to see him simply standing in the street, appearing helpless. "It's okay, come back," he said numbly.

"Run," Frank said urgently to Nancy, who had just begun to put one foot in front of the other in a straight line. Her next step was faster. She only needed half a moment more to pick up speed.

Frank and Nancy heard a sound behind them, a fast rhythmic slapping of shoes against gravel, belonging to someone who'd already had plenty of time to pick up speed.


	19. Chapter 19

Nancy's heart sank as soon as she heard the footsteps. They had only made it just beyond the sidewalk. The darkness might help them, but it would help their opponent as well. Flight was no longer an option; they could only fight. "I love you," she said to Frank. Just in case.

Frank realized the same thing and turned around to face his adversary, adrenaline running high. The man had accounted for this, however, and had run in a wide arc to approach Frank from the back. Frank raised his fists in self-defense, pivoting, but was just a moment too late. His attacker, standing well over six feet tall, slowed down but still bumped into Frank from behind. Frank lost his balance and Nancy's overnight bag flew out of his hands. The other man used the opportunity to grab both of Frank's wrists, tightly hugging him from behind. The two men appeared to be embracing, but Frank and Nancy recognized it for what it was: a form of restraint.

Frank began to violently twist and struggle. "Please run, Nancy," he said weakly, hopelessly, through gritted teeth as he resisted the other man's grip. However, he knew that no matter how much he begged, she would never save herself. They'd made an agreement about that before they were married.

Nancy moved in, searching for an opportunity to jab the man's eyes, her peripheral vision alert for any new intruders. She came closer just as Frank jerked to the side once more, giving Nancy a full view of the man's face.

She froze in astonishment. "Frank! It's your father!"

Frank didn't process this information immediately. Gradually he could hear his father speaking softly, soothingly into his ear.

"It's okay, Frank, you and Nancy are safe. You're safe. Stop struggling and we'll explain everything. Let me know when I can let you go. Settle down, settle down."

Frank's resistance slowed, then ceased. His expression changed into shock, then to a slow, simmering anger. It had been twenty-two seconds since Frank and Nancy had fled from the car.

"Let's hear him out, Frank," Nancy said, recovering first.

Frank stood up straight. He took one more deep breath, as much to calm his emotions as to recover from the exertion. "All right," he said tensely. "I'm ready. You can let go."

Fenton Hardy relaxed his grip and stepped back, then instantly regretted his decision. His wife had joined the small group, hurriedly picking up Nancy's bag. "It's okay, Frank, I'm fine," Laura Hardy said. "We've got to get inside. Now."

Frank's head whipped toward his father's direction, a murderous look on his face. Nancy quickly stepped between the two men.

"I'm sorry, Frank," Fenton said guiltily, his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Let's get off the street and you can yell at me inside."

"Obviously there's a good explanation for all this, honey," Nancy said, her body pressed against Frank's, her hands flat on his chest. Frank glared at his parents over her shoulders, and Nancy tipped his chin back toward her direction. "Focus. People we love and trust are trying not to make a scene, trying to get us inside. Let's follow them and then keep arguing, okay? Come on, Frank."

Frank wrestled with his thoughts, then took Nancy's hand, allowing himself to be led. Nancy, Frank, Laura, and Fenton began to walk back to join the others, which included a short, bespectacled woman, a tall man with salt-and-pepper gray hair, and a very old woman leaving heavily on her cane. Fenton nodded to Jeeves, and Jeeves began to close the car doors and park the car.

Nancy glanced at Frank's steely gaze and gave his hand an extra squeeze. Satisfied that he had calmed down for the moment, Nancy returned to thinking in detective mode. She disliked receiving explanations, and preferred to be the one giving them. She assessed their new companions, trying to predict their roles.

The tall man surveyed his surroundings, also glancing toward various security cameras. He turned a key in the lock of the front door, signaled for the group to wait, then swiftly moved behind the counter to turn off the alarm. The group entered and the tall man locked the door behind them.

Nancy loosened her hold on Frank's hand, nodding her head in confirmation as she looked at her surroundings. "A bank."

"So the treasure is authentic. Very nice," Frank said gruffly, and for once Nancy found the slight sulk in his voice endearing. "Why this charade?"

"The short answer is that our family was offered ten percent to play along," Laura Hardy said, hoisting Nancy's overnight back onto a counter. "I'm so sorry, honey, please forgive us."

Frank looked hard at his mother. "Eventually I will. Not yet. Anyway, we don't usually go to such lengths for ten percent, we all have good lives and good salaries." Then his expression softened. He pulled his mother toward him in a hug. "No more Cajun food for you," he murmured.

Laura laughed, returning his hug. "I don't think it would give me a heart attack, but I've learned my lesson about spicy food all the same." Her head turned in Frank's embrace, and she stared at Nancy. Nancy shook her head slightly.

The three strangers had ignored this conversation, and had by now taken the small pouch out of Nancy's overnight bag, placing it gingerly in a metal dish. The bespectacled woman had opened her briefcase and now stood ready with tiny magnifying instruments and gloved hands, waiting for the tall man to carefully snip the binding at the top of the leather. Nancy used the opportunity to assess each of the three newcomers intently.

Despite many careful hands surrounding the pouch, some small, cut diamonds escaped, spilling over the top of the worn leather. The woman examined one with her small, handheld lens. She nodded approval to have the rest emptied into the dish, then gestured to the group to give her room to work. The leather lying forgotten on the counter, the woman bent her brunette curls over the diamonds, moving the lens slowly over them. She picked up a few and inspected them individually.

The room was silent.

She straightened, then slowly turned toward the older woman. Her eyes twinkled with the first sign of emotion she had shown so far. "Six figures' worth, according to my initial assessment," she said. "Several hundred thousand, if you're lucky."

The strangers erupted into cheers, Jeeves swooping in and engulfing the older woman in a careful bear hug. The tall man waited his turn and gave the older woman a kiss on the cheek, then gave Jeeves a hearty handshake. The four Hardys grinned at each other in satisfaction at another case happily ended. Nancy glanced into the dish, then gestured her family to move to the side. "Let's let them celebrate," she said in a low voice.

"I'll be back in the morning to begin my full evaluation," the brunette promised. "Congratulations again. Here's my business card, I've changed locations since last we've done business. I'll send you my bills and correspondence from this address." Nancy took a couple of casual steps to the left so she could read the business card as it was exchanged. The tall man let the brunette out of the bank, then locked the door once more.

Nancy was surprised to see a sardonic smile beginning to form on the older woman's face. "My great-great-grandfather is starting to look very naughty," she said thoughtfully. "How in the world would they be in possession of these diamonds? Smuggling, perhaps, or family heirlooms that we never knew about." She shrugged, but still appeared contemplative.

The tall man covered the dish and placed it in a safe deposit box. He and the older woman turned their keys simultaneously to lock it, and smiled intimately at each other. He gestured the group into a consulting room and began arranging the chairs into a circle. "I think we'd better start from the very beginning," he said. "Some of us truly have no idea what's going on."

The older woman laughed, taking a seat and leaning her cane against the wall. "Let's start with introductions, at least. This man here is the manager of this bank and a longtime close friend of the family, Ron Zimmerman. The woman who just left is, as you could see, the assessor that we chose to appraise the treasure. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, this is my grandson, Jeeves, who spoke to you earlier tonight. Also, the person you know as Colonel Dijon is my brother, Henry, so also Jeeves's great-uncle."

Nods were exchanged around the room, with each person eager to hear the older woman's story.

"And my name is Sarah Reynolds," the older woman continued. "I am Sarah Crouton's great-granddaughter."

Frank's eyebrows shot up.

Sarah's eyes met his. "My great-grandmother, Sarah Crouton, did not die of a fever. She died when she was seventeen years old and unmarried, giving birth to my grandmother. Perhaps she had also lost the will to live when her parents were murdered, or perhaps she also wasn't in good medical care during childbirth since the extended family had in effect exiled her to try to hide her embarrassing condition. Enough women died during childbirth back then, at any rate. A variety of factors must have contributed to it."

Nancy nodded at her in acknowledgment and sympathy.

"The extended family made sure that the baby was named Sarah, and the eldest daughter has always been named Sarah since that time," Sarah continued. "The family let the baby be adopted, and made sure the deeds for the plantation were passed along to her when she came of legal age. They wanted to relieve their consciences, at any rate, since they wanted nothing more to do with the baby, or the isolated plantation whose owners had come to such a bloody end. Mystery continued to surround my great-great-grandparents' deaths, so it's no wonder how the plantation formed a reputation for being haunted. Now I'm thinking my great-great-grandfather must have been involved in a smuggling ring, and either betrayed someone or took someone else's business. It was wartime, and he had to support his family somehow. Desperate people will do desperate things."

"These diamonds weren't worth their deaths," Laura said quietly. "How sad."

"True, but he would have known that if he was caught or compromised, other smugglers might have killed them whether or not they handed over the diamonds," Sarah responded. "Again, we'll never really know. My grandmother gave birth to my mother in 1908, respectably married, and she in turn gave birth to me in 1936 and my brother Henry almost ten years later. The old, cursed plantation was passed along from mother to daughter, with never enough money to manage the upkeep. It cost a sizable chunk just to keep our permits and insurance going for these murder mystery weekends. Which were my grandson's idea, by the way." She beamed in Jeeves' direction.

Jeeves grinned at her, squeezing her arm. "There wasn't enough money to turn it into a historical site, and no grants would bother investing money in a sinking plantation with such a poor financial profile. You need to have money to get money, in the world of grants. So we used the curse to our advantage, to add a spooky side plot to our weekends. And, if anything came of it, so much the better. We found the old Bible with the note in the floorboards of the chapel a few years into renovations, while we remodeled the chapel in the 1980s, and decided to keep it there to add some fun. We added the voodoo doll, of course. Celie's character had a page in the script to explain the haunting and rumors if ever she was asked. We never believed the rumors of treasure on the plantation, since we figured our ancestors would have spent the money when they needed it, but they must have been more concerned with making sure that Sarah was forever provided for. Many groups have discovered the Bible in the floorboards, but none of them had the _cojones_ to drag the suit of armor out to the shed and oil it for clues."

Nancy's face reddened as she felt her in-laws' heads turn in her direction. They would know that it was her idea, not their level-headed son's.

"Or send an historical bell crashing to the ground to follow up on said clue," Jeeves added for emphasis, the corners of his mouth twitching with the hint of a grin.

Nancy smiled weakly at Frank. "Well, honey, at least I don't believe we'll be getting a bill in the mail for those items after all," she said innocently.

Fenton looked from Nancy to Frank, then back again. "You two complement each other quite nicely," he said. "As detectives and in other ways, too."

Nancy blushed anew at the compliment, and quickly changed the subject. "I've got to say, though," she said, frowning, "I found the Sir Lancelot clue to be quite obvious. Yet no one else has ever searched the suit of armor?"

Sarah laughed and turned toward her grandson. "Guests must have thought of it over the years, I'm thinking. But not us, because, you see…it was well known that Sir Lancelot was the name of the beloved family cat."

The room erupted into laughter, and Jeeves couldn't resist kissing his grandmother on her cheek once more. "And now you can decide what to do with this new money, Grams," he said excitedly. "We can try to salvage the historical artifacts we have, we can pay rent somewhere, we can pick up shop and set up somewhere else that isn't a sinking island. We could hire staff, we could change the business into an historical site on land and finally get that grant to keep the Crouton story going, now that we can prove that we've got a financial leg to stand on. Or we could keep going as is, with financial security in the bank. Ron can help us with all that. And you folks can decide what you want to do with your ten percent, too."

Frank sat up straighter. "Yeah, about that ten percent. I'm not quite sure yet that we want to take it from your worthy cause—"

"Oh, but you must—" Sarah began, but Frank held up an index finger.

"When I already have everything I want in life that money can buy, but I would like to hear the story of how my parents came to believe that it was acceptable to deceive me and my wife about such a serious subject."

Laura glanced at her husband, then her son. "It's more my fault, Frank. I wanted you and Nancy to decide on the ten percent for yourselves. So when Jeeves called us a little past midnight and explained that he thought you found authentic treasure, I immediately told your father to go along with the plan."

"I told your mother and father that if they could work out a plan where the treasure was never out of all three of our sights, yours, mine, and Nancy's, and you two came willingly to the bank, then your family would have ten percent," Jeeves explained. "The speakerphone conversation had to be with me in the room, and you could not speak privately to your parents. I don't know you all, so I couldn't trust to confide in you the secret of the treasure's authenticity. And, this way, the three of us act as collaborating witnesses that the bag was not opened or tampered with before we came into this bank."

"It would have worked out better but not perfectly if I could have met you earlier at the waterfront," Fenton added. "I hope you can understand, Frank, and you too, Nancy. The original plan was for Mr. Zimmerman, the bank manager here, to ride in your car as escort, with me and your mother following in the car behind. However, Mr. Zimmerman was tied up notifying his security and the police, and coordinating with the appraiser. Your mother and I ended up volunteering to pick up Mrs. Reynolds, who lives twenty minutes away. We got here just before you did. I imagine it still would have worked out less painfully for you if your mother or I had thought to call your brother to brief him on the plan. What an amateur glitch. And kind of surprising on your ends, Frank and Nancy, that you didn't sneak a peek at that treasure before you got here."

Frank and Nancy looked at each other. Nancy shrugged. "On my end, I figured I had bigger fish to fry, such as a husband in distress. If Jeeves had tried to keep it from us, I would have felt the need to find out what it was immediately. But as it was, the bottom line was the same: whether it was authentic or not, or even treasure or not, our priority was to keep it and us away from the bad guys and to a safe location before making any decisions. No offense."

"None taken," Jeeves said. "Can we draft an agreement now, Ron, that the Spruces will have ten percent of whatever the value of the diamonds is?"

"Hardys," Frank and Nancy corrected in unison, then smiled tiredly at each other. Frank stifled a yawn. He once again put a protective arm around his mother.

"Of course," Mr. Zimmerman said immediately, standing up.

Laura stood up as well, but put a hand up. "There's no need. We trust you, and Nancy and Frank haven't decided yet if they're accepting the ten percent. We are still on vacation, remember, and this is our last night. Let's get some sleep and agree on a time to meet here tomorrow."

"No. I have something to say about all this," Frank said.

A/N: Congratulations to those people who figured out in some way, shape, or form where I was going with this, including those who kept their suspicions to themselves, and special congrats to the one person who even guessed exactly where Jeeves was driving to! Two chapters left, two twists left. Some people have already guessed the first twist, including someone who figured it out immediately after I gave the first whiff of a hint—you know who you are, and I am still sulking. As for the second twist, the sky's the limit because I just thought of it this afternoon, before I wrote this chapter, so I'm hoping it doesn't contradict anything I wrote previously. Get your guesses in now for a chance at 50% off my next story!


	20. Chapter 20

All eyes were on Frank. He turned toward Nancy.

"We are more than provided for on the salaries that we make," he said, glancing at the group, then back at Nancy. "Although I do remember the days not too long ago when we were solving cases left and right, yet still found ourselves living on Ramen noodles every night. It was back when we did freelance work, when all our clients could thank us with was inheritance money, insurance money, or something similar."

While he'd spoken, a slow smile had formed on Nancy's face. She knew where he was going with this, and loved him all the more for it.

Frank took Nancy's hand. "We couldn't take any money back then, except for expenses involved in solving the case. I never felt good about helping people only to take a portion of the help for myself at the end. I know you agreed, Nancy, because you did the same thing. So what do you say? Let's sign away our privileges to any reward money, sleep in tomorrow, and complete those affidavits before our plane tomorrow night."

Sarah had been shaking her head throughout these statements, but waited until Frank was finished before beginning to vehemently disagree. Jeeves motioned for her to stop speaking, as he'd noticed an undecipherable look pass between Laura Hardy and Nancy.

Frank picked up on it as well. "What's going on?"

Laura hesitated. "Well…of course that decision is fine by your father and me, too. It's not our decision anyway. But I'd appreciate it if you and Nancy discussed it privately before you sign anything. Just to make sure."

Nancy looked at Frank, then stood up. "Sure. Would you mind coming with me into another office, Frank?"

Frank frowned. "Okay, I guess." He stood up and followed Nancy into the first unlocked, bare office she could find.

Nancy shut the door, then turned around and hugged Frank. She sighed, leaning into his squeeze. "I'm so tired."

"Me, too. This neverending night is almost over." Frank pulled away and put his hands on Nancy's upper arms. "Tell me what you wanted to say, Nance. If you want to accept part of the reward, that's fine. I didn't mean to put you on the spot back there."

"No, that's okay. Maybe I agree with you. But I want you to know all the facts before we decide." Nancy gestured for Frank to take a seat. She sat down as he did.

He leaned in and put his hands on his knees expectantly.

Nancy cleared her throat. "I'd like to talk about my thirty-second birthday a few months ago. I'm sure you remember that."

"Oh, yes," Frank said softly.

"What a nice surprise party your family gave me," Nancy recollected. "But I was in a rotten mood. My thirtieth birthday I could take. We were dating and I was in love. Then we were planning a wedding, so I was distracted for my thirty-first birthday too. But then, during this past year, I fully realized that after thirty-two, I would turn thirty-three. And then, I would actually turn thirty-four. Just like everyone else does. When you're young, you think everyone else is going to get old except for you."

Frank nodded.

"You and your family surprised me at our apartment, right when I came home from work. It was such a nice party. After dinner, I opened your mom's present first. A pair of dangly earrings, with my birthstone in them. I ran into the bathroom to try them on. And then…couldn't come back out again. I see you laughing, so stop trying to hide it."

"I'm sorry," Frank said, taking his hand away from his grin. "You're so precious, honey. That's a terrible memory for you, but such a good one for me."

Nancy begrudgingly rolled her eyes, but gave a small smile. "Why don't you continue the story then, if you love it so much."

"Don't mind if I do. Five minutes later, the whole family practically shoved me into the bathroom to check on you. Imagine my astonishment to find my pretty little bride crying in front of the bathroom mirror with one earring on. You'd been trying to put the second earring in when you noticed it. Near your temple. You'd found your first grey hair." Frank put Nancy's hair behind her right ear, searching for it and touching it fondly. He'd never let her pluck it.

Nancy took his hand, kissed it, and held it in her lap. "You told me this was an unbirthday present for you. You said that you had been looking forward to the days when other men stopped noticing me, and you were the only one still looking."

Frank laughed. "I thought it was a sweet thing to say, but I got in trouble."

"Almost. I was just planning my freak out when you quickly covered your tracks, adding 'in forty or fifty more years.'" Nancy giggled with him. "And you said that you were looking forward to fulfilling _all_ of your wedding vows, especially growing older with me. And you leaned in and pointed out the crow's feet you're starting to get, and proposed drafting a letter to our apartment complex to advocate for the installation of a chair lift. Then you pulled your iPhone from your back pocket and starting researching the pros and cons of various denture pastes. And said that we would get through old age together."

Frank squeezed Nancy's leg affectionately. "All culminating with us running out of the bathroom giggling, while you only had one earring on. Weeks later, Joe still never let us hear the end of it."

Nancy smiled, then became serious again. "Almost. You ran out of the bathroom, and then I followed five seconds later. It's those five seconds that I want to talk about."

Frank's forehead creased.

Nancy looked away from him, searching for the right words. "While you'd been comforting me in that unexpected way, I was looking at your crow's feet, but I was thinking about you. Thinking about how it's nice being young with you, but you were right, it will be nice being old with you, too. Thinking about the risks involved in getting married, and how even if I make all the conservative decisions in life, I'll still get older and die. And how we only live once. And deciding that I wanted to experience _all_ that life offers. Together, as a team. With you."

Frank's grip on Nancy's hand had tightened.

"And so," Nancy said, her eyes turning back once more to Frank, "I exited that bathroom the same coward I'd ever been. Same fears, same insecurities. But I knew, before I left, that there was one courageous thing I could do. Something that would prevent any decision making in the future, because what's done is done."

"What did you do?" Frank almost whispered.

"I had stopped keeping my birth control pills behind the mirror because they caused too many arguments," Nancy said. "So I unburied them from my hiding place in the bathroom closet, and emptied the container at the bottom of the full trash can." She searched Frank's features, her poker face still firmly in place. "So, you see, we find ourselves here at the bank tonight deciding if or how much we should contribute to a future college fund."

Frank was frozen in place, his mouth hanging slightly open. His eyes slowly widened. "You couldn't tuck and roll out of the car," he said hesitantly. He gasped. "But you drank tonight!"

"The bushes drank tonight, before you walked outside," Nancy corrected.

Frank stared straight ahead of him, his eyes unfocused. Then he shook his head and shouted for joy, kneeling in front of Nancy and wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her stomach repeatedly. "We're going to be parents!" he yelled. "We're going to be parents, Nancy!"

Nancy laughed and pressed his head to her midsection, her butterflies returning full force. "I'm terrified, Frank," she almost moaned.

"So am I! I've never done this before either, you know. I'll remind you of the happiness, you'll remind me of the fears." Frank stood up and pulled Nancy to her feet. He pulled her close, swaying as if dancing to a slow song. "Now I have everything that money cannot buy," he murmured into her ear.

Nancy laughed, his enthusiasm contagious. "If I'm going to be scared out of my mind while reproducing, I would rather do it with no one but you, Frank Hardy."

"Likewise, Mama. Hey, wait—" Frank pulled back and narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "You told my mom before me?"

"She knew almost before I did!" Nancy protested. "I was at your parents' house last week, finalizing these vacation plans with your mom, when I suddenly felt nauseous. I was subjected to an interrogation involving a variety of personal issues, culminating in her threatening to tie me to a chair before she drove to the corner store for a pregnancy test. Totally not awkward at all, by the way."

"Sorry about that. In-laws are great. So there were _two_ devious women hiding this from me," Frank said with a smile. "She's in trouble too, believe me."

"We agreed that I'd wait and tell you on our anniversary night. I made her promise not to tell _anyone_ ," Nancy finished as they heard rapidly approaching footsteps.

Laura burst in and crossed the room in two quick strides, enveloping Frank in a firm hug. "Now you know!" she said proudly. "It was killing me, keeping it from everyone!"

"Keeping what?" Fenton asked. He immediately interpreted the shy, pleased looks on everyone's faces. "Congratulations," he said to Frank, clasping his older son's hand in a firm handshake.

"Thanks, Dad," Frank said, noticing the banker, Jeeves, and Sarah waiting patiently for them in the main entrance room of the bank. He led his family out of the office.

"What a happy time for you all," Sarah said, beaming. "Jeeves, would you be upset if we gave them twenty percent of the diamonds' value? They have so many things to plan for—"

Frank dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand. "That's the last thing on my mind right now. Let's meet tomorrow and we'll give you an answer then, shall we? This bank is suddenly making me claustrophobic. I need to be alone with my wife."

"Let's all meet for lunch, so we can sleep in," Jeeves decided. "And I need to get back on the island tomorrow morning and help Uncle Henry wrap up this murder mystery overnighter. Where should we meet for the lunch? The sky's the limit."

"How about K-Paul's Louisiana Kitchen?" Laura suggested. "I hear their spicy Cajun shrimp gumbo is out of this world." She stared down her family members, in defiance of their disapproving looks. "What? This is our last chance for cultural food."

"12:30 it is, at wherever she just said," Frank said impatiently to the group. "Come on, Nancy. Let's make a grand exit."

Nancy allowed herself to be led out of the bank by her glowing husband, feeling a twinge of discomfort at the thought of one final piece of unfinished business. She hoped that she'd have a chance to address it before this vacation was over.

A/N: One chapter to go!


	21. Chapter 21

Frank opened the door of the bank and ushered Nancy outside, twirling her in an exaggerated dance move. "Oh, my goodness, Nancy Hardy. I have just walked into the free air for the first time while knowing I will be a father, and now I will enter a vehicle for the first time while knowing I will be a father."

Nancy rolled her eyes and smiled. "This list could go on for a while, I'm seeing."

"And we will fall asleep together soon, while knowing we will be parents." Frank pulled Nancy close and put a hand on her stomach once more. "We'll do this together as a team, Nancy," he promised. "With our fair share of fear _and_ happiness."

Nancy held on to him, and believed him.

Sarah, Jeeves, Fenton, and Laura emerged from the bank, giving final handshakes and hugs.

Sarah took Jeeves's elbow and allowed him to lead her to the vehicle. "Remember, 12:30 tomorrow," she said vehemently, giving each Hardy a final, icy stare. "I mean it. It would be a horrible waste of money to send my grandson up north repeatedly to talk you into accepting your own money."

"Please," Jeeves mouthed to them, opening the door for his grandmother. He gave one final service as butler, transferring Nancy and Frank's belongings to the Hardys' rental car. Sarah and Jeeves entered their own car, strapped in, and pulled away.

Laura grumbled to herself. "I finally have clearance to tell all the friends and family about the baby, and it's nearly two o'clock in the morning." She gasped. "Joe! He's been waiting all this time!"

"Oh, no. How much does he know?" Frank asked, yawning.

"He called your father's phone in a panic about me. Sarah was in the car and we could only explain that I was okay, and it was a ruse to get you out of a sticky situation." Laura wrinkled her nose. "I'll have to wash his mouth out with soap for the words he was using as we hung up. And he said he's sending you a bill for all the gallons of coffee he'll need tomorrow."

"We need to give him the basics, anyway." Frank brightened even more at the prospect of speaking to his brother.

"The basics of what?" Fenton asked. "Solving your mystery at the plantation, our haphazard plan to get you to the bank, Sarah Reynolds' story, or support and congratulations on parenthood?"

"Maybe you'll have time for a little of all four," Nancy said sheepishly. "You'll never believe what I forgot back in the bank."

Frank shook his head. "If I never see that godforsaken overnight bag again."

"We'll wait to call until you get out of the bank, Nancy," Laura said, walking to her side of the car.

Nancy shook her head and began returning to the bank. "That's okay, I want to thank the bank manager again anyway. I'm sure Joe will have plenty of opportunities to make his opinions known to me. Get in the car, everybody, and close the door for privacy. And safety."

"Oh, you know what, Dad, before I forget. You, me, and Joe have to figure out code phrases to use for next time, in case things _seem_ suspicious but everything's actually okay," Frank said to his father before shutting the car door and locking it.

Nancy shook her head in amusement as she knocked on the bank's locked door. Hardy men were obsessed with code words. She put a tentative hand on her stomach. So there was at least a fifty percent chance that the child within her would be obsessed with code words, too.

Mr. Zimmerman opened the door for her, then once again turned off the alarm. He left the key in the lock after he'd closed it behind her. "Your bag, miss," he said, pointing to a table next to the door. He'd known she would be back.

Nancy ignored it, standing in place as Mr. Zimmerman took his hot water from the microwave in the break room, returned, and dipped a tea packet repeatedly into the disposable cardboard cup. "Tea for the road?" he asked her. "It's decaf. I can make another."

Nancy shook her head. "No, thank you."

Mr. Zimmerman took his tea to a small consulting table. He sat down and took a sip.

Nancy watched him silently. She turned the key, locking the bank door behind her. She approached him from the front, leaning a hand on the table. "We will all pretty lucky tonight," she proffered.

Mr. Zimmerman raised his eyebrows. "I'll say."

"Ms. Drummond's business card said that she was a diamond appraiser, seller, and buyer. That's a fortunate guess, considering that we had no idea if the pouch would contain gold, silver, Spanish doubloons, drachmas…or anything else."

Mr. Zimmerman gazed pleasantly at Nancy, neither discomfited nor welcoming. "Yes, lucky guess. No harm done if we'd been wrong, we could have gotten someone else in the morning."

Nancy nodded slowly. "Southern hospitality isn't what it used to be these days, I'll tell you."

"Didn't I offer you tea?" Mr. Zimmerman asked.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry, I wasn't referring to you. I was surprised that the police couldn't have offered you an escort, when you explained to them that you were trying to protect a newly discovered centuries-old bag of hidden treasure."

"They offered, of course," Mr. Zimmerman responded, staring straight ahead. "I didn't find it to be necessary."

"Okay," Nancy said, frowning in confusion. "But really what I'm wondering is why it took you so long to make a few phone calls, calls to security and police and asking the appraiser to make an emergency trip. Calls that you could make on speakerphone while driving. Why would you entrust your dear friend Sarah Reynolds to be driven here by a couple of complete strangers who might try to run away with the treasure? It's almost as if you had something additional to do as soon as you heard about the treasure, something you didn't want to mention in front of the group."

Ron Zimmerman's eyes flicked upward to Nancy's. The left corner of his mouth curved upward in a small, tight smile. "Nothing gets by you, Nancy Drew," he said softly. He took another long gulp of tea, then pushed the cup away from him and interlaced his fingers. "Please, have a seat. How much time do we have?"

"A few minutes at most," Nancy said. She searched his facial features, noting the smooth skin, faint smile lines, hair that was more pepper than salt. "The years have been kind to you, Mr. Zimmerman."

"Yes, they have," Ron said thoughtfully. "In more ways than one. I'm guessing that you and your father must be quite thorough with one another."

"Yes, we are," Nancy said. "We review the files of all our previous cases twice a year. In our line of work, there are always people who have a motive to harm us, for ransom, revenge, or anything else, and my father and I need a complete understanding of past cases in order to have some clues in case…something should happen to one of us. My husband and I recently started doing it with each other's cases as well."

"Good thinking, yes. And very impressive, considering it has been….yes, just over thirty years since your father provided the evidence in court to convict me and my brother." Ron laughed briefly. "Poor Carson Drew, fresh out of school and having to get his feet wet with drug busts. Not very exotic, pretty straightforward. He moved up in the ranks pretty quickly, though."

Nancy cracked her knuckles. "Remind me of which years each of you spent in prison?"

"My brother was sentenced to fifteen years, but he only served three of it." Ron's eyes briefly lost their focus, and he appeared to be far away, in another place and time. "You make a lot of enemies in the drug trade. He joined some people in prison that he'd helped to put there, and they exacted their revenge. It's a miracle he survived as long as he did, actually."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Nancy said.

"Yes, you would be, Ms. Drew, seeing as you believe the criminal justice system should be enough to bring about justice. Unfortunately, real life usually doesn't work that way."

"Mrs. Hardy," Nancy corrected him. "And when were you in?"

"Pardon me, my apologies. I only got four years, as it was my first conviction and the judge was hoping I wouldn't join the revolving door. I was in from 1981 to 1985. I was on probation afterward, assigned a ridiculous amount of community service and check-ins. They gave me such a hick assignment, too. Volunteering, construction, and maintenance on a shot-to-hell island plantation."

Nancy glanced toward the front door, aware that she would have to prioritize her questions. "I understand why you didn't call the police, why you found your own diamond appraiser and suggested her to Sarah and Jeeves tonight. But I can't account for your missing time. What were you doing before we all arrived here tonight?"

Ron waved a hand in dismissal. "Oh, that obnoxious woman Drummond," he said in disgust. "I should have seen it coming. Well, I did, really, but I never thought it would be quite this bad. Put up such a hissy fit about raising the amount of bribe money she wanted. I had to put her on hold and ask your father-in-law to pick up Sarah. Drummond wanted a contract typed and signed before you all got here, imagine that! Doesn't she know it looks a little more suspicious that there's documented proof of my paying her $15,000 for a job that should only take several hours? We signed the contract, I gave her the check, and she gave me the notorized seal of authenticity and value that she'd created long ago. If she's stupid enough to open her mouth or try to blackmail me, we'll see who's blackmailing whom. She opens her mouth, I show the diamonds along with their corresponding fake authenticity seal with Drummond's signature on it, voila. I can say I've been scammed."

At this, Nancy sat back in her chair, satisfied. She found that she couldn't restrain her emotions any longer, and she smiled widely and genuinely at him. "You're a good man, Ron Zimmerman."

Ron stood up, walking slowly. "I'm not. It's blood money. That plantation isn't cursed, that money is cursed. And it's been on my hands for far too long. I should have done this a long time ago, a very long time ago."

"Why didn't you?" Nancy asked.

"The plantation was doing well on its own, breaking even, turning a little profit actually. Jeeves has a full-time job during the week, he just got engaged, he does the murder mystery weekends for fun. Henry's retired and gets a real kick out of it too, tells everybody he meets that he's a professional actor. I know money can…change people." Ron stopped walking, seeming to speak to himself rather than Nancy. "But Sarah just turned eighty a month ago. She can't be around forever. She wanted to see Jeeves happy, able to make a downpayment on the house, make some concrete decisions about their historical artifacts before the island swallows them whole. Sarah is so proud, she adamantly refused any kind of direct financial help from anyone over the years. It's time."

Nancy got up and approached him, standing behind him. "And so this act of generosity will redeem the blood money," she urged.

Ron considered. "Yes. Yes, it will. This is the money from a joint overseas account that I shared with my brother, the "training wheels" account that my brother deposited a portion of the drug profits from. By the time I got out of prison, my brother was dead and it belonged entirely to me."

"And also, when you got out of prison, you were assigned to a hick community service project," Nancy reminded him, glancing once more toward the door.

"Yes. A family of idiots actually let an ex-con run free on their historical estate, unsupervised amid a sea of artifacts that would have earned him a hefty profit on the black market. An insane woman accompanied me to every probation check-in, saying that I was the best worker she'd ever had, eventually paying me on the plantation once I'd completed the community service hours. Then she found out during restoration projects that I have a knack for numbers, and she pestered the local bank for months. Enough to make them prefer hiring an ex-con as teller rather than hear another word from her." Ron shook his head fondly.

"So when did the opportunity arise?" Nancy asked.

"It must have been after the community service hours were finished," Ron reminisced. "I was paid staff, on-the-books legal staff, for the first time since my teenaged years, and I wanted to prove to Sarah that I would work even harder on the payroll than I had during mandatory supervised hours. It was a day of tedious work, spring cleaning when we've got to wipe off the grime of the previous season. It required a lot of elbow grease, almost painful scrubbing. I was assigned to the statue of the water nymph that day."

Nancy's eyes lit up with understanding.

"We had turned the valve handle in the shaft just to get the water flowing, make sure the pipes hadn't entirely clogged over the winter. Not that the fountain was much to look at. I laughed at it and began scrubbing, when—paradoxically—the base of the statue moved at the exact same time that the grass in front of me began to rip."

"Wow," Nancy commented.

"So I pushed it further, ripping the grass further, and realized that I was the first person to go down into that secret passage in over a hundred years."

"So, once you got the idea about planting fake treasure, you only had to remove the valve handle," Nancy prompted.

Ron nodded. "The crank was wedged in the brick wall downstairs, too. Attaching the crank to the bell was easy. It looked like it fit right in, and the erosion over the years only served to increase that effect. The valve handle in the suit of armor, though...it fit right in perfectly, but how could I make it look like the helmet hadn't been opened since the Civil War? I did some experiments with spray water and various chemical compounds to help speed up the rusting process. It worked somewhat, and the humidity from the last twenty-eight years sped up the aging progression too."

"And you must have been remodeling the chapel," Nancy added.

"And I loosened some floorboards, yeah. And tell me you don't really think that the family Bible and the note could be authentic, not after a hundred and fifty years. They'd practically disintegrate. The grass grew around the secret passage over the years."

Nancy nodded in understanding. "We noticed some discrepancies. Things appeared to be too old and not old enough at the same time."

"There really is a Ruby Crouton, by the way," Ron said. "I did my research, though, and she was an extended family member who had later chosen to be buried somewhere else. Of course I kept her out of my rendition of the family tree. I made that family tree exactly the way Sarah was always talking about her ancestors. That Bible proved every name and date she'd always believed in. She was ecstatic. Oh, and of course I'd need a corrupt jeweler. I went to Old Man Drummond, who had a heart of gold and absolutely loved the idea. He provided me with the convincing-looking fake diamonds, and even referred me to someone who could get me a cut of very old, worn leather. Drummond had no idea how much money I'd be transferring into Sarah's account, of course, or from what source. But he would have gone along with it anyway, I'm sure of it, and for no money either. What a disgrace his daughter is, turning such a profit from the idea. I never would have confided in her after her old man passed away, if I'd known this would be her response."

"How could no one have followed through on this treasure hunt since 1988," Nancy mused.

"I was surprised myself, at first. Well, you have to understand, the plantation was closed for years at a time when we couldn't manage the upkeep or permits, or the family had other things to concentrate on. It's only open on the weekends that Jeeves and Henry want it to be, and you'd be surprised how many people pay that kind of money just to drink. And the murders used to only be a half-hour apart-"

"Can you really tell me that my presence here is an accident?" Nancy said quietly.

Ron turned to face her. "My brother had his supporters in the drug trade as well. A couple of people have called me over the years to check on me, tempt me to get back in the game…give me updates. I let all the calls go to voicemail over the years, and most stopped calling. Then, finally, just a few days ago, I received a call that I did return."

"A few days ago," Nancy repeated.

"A former associate saw you with your new family at a local Cajun restaurant."

Nancy paused for a beat. "And let you know I was in the area, in case you wanted revenge."

"Unfortunately, yes. But then I started thinking…how ironic, if Carson Drew's daughter made my restitution possible. My former friend said that it was very easy to sell those discounted tickets to your husband, that Frank thought that the event was a perfect fit for you." Ron touched Nancy's elbow lightly, smiling at her. "I couldn't agree more."

Nancy smiled in return. "It was my honor for Frank and me to play a part in this. We can't accept that ten percent."

"You have to. Sarah would never let you have peace. The total value of that drug money bank account is $574,221. Once Sarah sees the certificate of authenticity and value, she'll leave the logistics in my hands. She can never, never know that the diamonds are fakes, that I'm actually transferring the money from that cursed bank account, or she would refuse to accept the money. Several weeks later there will be a nice deposit in her account, no questions asked. And we'll put a check in the mail for the daughter of the man who helped get my life back on track."

There was a rapid knock at the door. Ron Zimmerman unlocked the door for Frank and gave Nancy her overnight bag, putting a hand on her shoulder to usher her out. "I'll see you tomorrow, Ms. Drew, for the final affidavits and contract for ten percent," he said with a final businesslike smile, closing the door behind her.

Nancy stared at the door. He had never asked her if she would keep his secret.

"Mama Dreeeew!" she heard Joe's caffeine-altered voice rising from Frank's speakerphone. "I'm on eBay right now, picking out a rocker and knitting needles!"

Nancy let out a breath of tension, looking up at the stars. She felt her husband's protective arm around her shoulder. Frank grinned at her again, the radiant smile of fatherhood. She kissed him on the cheek and they walked together to the car.

The End

A/N: We finally made it, and, most happily, we made it to the end with no bad guys! Thanks to everyone who followed and reviewed, especially those who reviewed faithfully for each chapter. Your feedback is much appreciated, and helps to improve my writing. You guys make an author very, very happy. See you next story!


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